The Monster in the Mansion A Modern Faerie Tale
by jessxreality
Summary: A mythical retelling of Beauty and the Beast that follows the beautiful Giselle through monsters, faeries, drugs and love.
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

* * *

**Panic –**

(n) An overwhelming feeling of fear and anxiety.

(n) Sudden fear and anxiety of an anticipated event.

(v) To be overcome by a sudden fear.

* * *

**Giselle**

I've never dealt with panic well.

Don't take this the wrong way though. I don't mean that any time things get a little stressed I over react like the earth is about to implode and kill us all. No, I mean that I just don't. Panic, that is. Never have. If a gunman were to walk up to me during school and point the gun at my head, I'd probably say, "Just let me finish this equation… okay, I'm done. What can I do for you?"

And yes, I understand this is a problem. A problem because panic was instilled in us humans for a reason. It makes us run away. And I don't do that. I'm still trying to work it out. In any case, that is why I am now in the predicament I'm in now. Because if I had panicked – like all normal human beings would – I wouldn't have entered that house. I wouldn't have met River. I wouldn't have stayed with River. I wouldn't have… well, let's just say my life would be a whole lot easier if I had just panicked and got the hell out of that house.

But, no, I had to be the calm, measured, composed me.

I guess I should probably start at the beginning. To be honest, this story didn't actually begin with me. It began with River. And a long time ago, I might add. But I don't really know that part of the story all that well, so I am just going from where I stepped in. I'm seventeen and live in a fairly small town. Apart from my obvious abstinence from panic I'm also fairly pretty. And I know that sounds very conceited but it's the truth, and I personally hate it when pretty girls say they're ugly when they know they aren't. It's more insulting. Anyway, I have a feeling that was why I was picked. Because I'm sort of fearless and a little beautiful. So, here's the beginning.

Just know, the start begins in another world.

**

* * *

Beauty **

The Merchant looked at the three girls before him. Junkies. Except the last one. The one that he'd always seen something in. Beautiful. Classic. Virgin. A pure rose.

He held up the vile of coke.

"This can give you anything. What do you want?"

"Diamonds," the first girl giggled.

"Pearls," the second laughed with her friend.

"Belle?" the Merchant questioned the third girl.

Belle looked at the Merchant with a disgusted look on her face. She hated it when he called her that. Belle.

"From that?" She nodded at the vile of white powder. "Nothing." She looked away, revolted.

"What about a beautiful," the Merchant took a step forward, whispering, "red," another step, "rose." He was close now. He reached up and ran a hand over Belle's cheek with only breath. "Rose. Belle."

"You'd never find one in winter," Belle spat. Then, she spun, spite in her movements, and left the house.

The Merchant only smiled, knowing she'd be back.

And next time, he'd have his rose for her. From her.

**

* * *

Magic Mirror**

The mirror wasn't magic, but it may as well have been. The white powder made it magic.

The images changed. Sharpened. Blurred.

The mirror wasn't magic, but it showed Belle what she needed to see. She saw her family. Her brother. The life she lost. And the life she'd gained. But gained was hardly a word that sounded fit.

Sometimes she wondered what happened. How this had happened. The drugs. The haze. The lies. The pain.

Mostly – usually – the pain.

She blamed the Beast. But there was only so much blame one person could be held to. So much of it was her fault. So much.

And she hated herself for it. She really hated herself.

**

* * *

Beast**

She was beautiful. He could see that. It was one of the reasons he'd married her.

Jocelyn. But there was something else. Something about her. Some… emotion. Some… enchantment.

He couldn't explain it. Her beauty explained it for him.

So why was he… exploring with another? Jocelyn was all he needed and more. So why was he with a gypsy. Because it was easy? Because she was entrancing. He wasn't sure.

"Are you coming to bed?" Jocelyn asked. Her voice was soft and tentative; almost as if she were scared. He hoped that she wasn't. That would hurt him.

"I…yes. Yes, I am." Tonight, he decided, he would stay with his wife. She deserved that much from him. Jocelyn had already crawled under the covers of the bed. She was reading something. A title he wasn't sure of. "What are you reading, love?" he asked.

Jocelyn looked up, surprised he'd asked. "A story of a young girl. It's called _Roselyn_." He waited for her to continue. Jocelyn looked happy. She began to talk animatedly. "Her father is awful, his wife dead. She runs away. It's about her life after. She meets some very interesting people."

He smiled, and slipped under the covers of the bed with his wife. She put the book down and took a breath. He ran a hand over her cheek. She smiled softly; she wanted this. Then he realised something – so did he. He still didn't understand it. Was he scared of what Jocelyn was? "You are more beautiful that you could ever know," he told her.

"Just for you," she answered.

**

* * *

Stockholm Syndrome – **a psychological response seen in an abducted hostage or prisoner, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the perpetrator, regardless of the danger. This response is thought to occur as a survival mechanism for the hostage, on the grounds of the perpetrator providing protection for the victim; forming a bond with the perpetrator in the thought that this will stop any intention of killing the hostage and providing better treatment.

* * *

Read and Review please - I've already written the next few chapters so review if you want them to go up...


	2. Whitestone Manor

**1. Whitestone Manor **

"The stories _are_ true," Mix said softly, as if she were scared to disturb the peace.

"Mix, the stories are just that – stories. There is no fact in them at all. If there were, wouldn't there be some sort of evidence? Some bodies? Blood? Missing persons?"

"But they can hide it. Change memories," Mix said. Her certainty scared me.

"Look, there is nothing in that house. Nothing except spiders, dust and maybe a few bats," I said, eying the old house and pitched roof.

"The how come my dog always goes crazy when we walk past?"

"Because your dog _is_ crazy. Weren't you the one complaining because he barks at the sensor light that doesn't work?"

"Yeah, well," Mix muttered, looking at the ground.

"If this is such a big deal, I'll show you," I said defiantly. "I'll go into that house and show you there are no _magical beings_."

"They're not _magical beings_.," Mix said, looking away from me, her cheeks reddening slightly. "They're more like… real life faeries. But they're evil." She almost sounded… bitter.

"Is that so?" I was only a little guilty for being so scornful of my best friend. What can I say? I'm a sceptic.

"Yeah. Haven't you ever read anything about fey or faeries?" Mix asked.

I knew the word, but only vaguely. "Nope."

I knew Mix would have. She was totally into myths and legends. Especially about magical creatures. Faeries, vampires, werewolves, demons and whatever. It scared me to think she believed in all that stuff. I thought she would have grown out of it, but as the years flew by, and she found the internet full of crap like that… well, the obsession grew. It didn't help that our rather small town, that was some settlement in the sixteenth century, was rife with stories of witches and ghosts.

In particular, there was a large run down mansion, called Whitestone Manor – made no sense to me since the house was made of black stones, but, whatever – that stood on top of the only hill in our flat town. It was said that this was where the owner or mayor of the town used to live – on top of a hill, in an intimidating mansion – so he could watch over the village. And anywhere in our quaint little city this house can be seen. The land it sits on is huge – at least a good fifty or so acres – the house standing in the centre like some kind of trophy. Around the land is a massive, bluestone fence with large iron spokes adorning the top of the eight-foot stonewall. At the front of the land, hanging off rusty hinges, were wrought iron gates that were forever chained up. From the gaps in the gate at the driveway, the front and sides of the house were visible. A long over grown drive wound up to the mansion, where a fountain stood in the centre of the curved part of the drive that came back around again and met with the first path in a circular shape. Along the path, huge pine trees hung over the road forming a dark tunnel that whispered life. I personally thought the whole effect of the over grown garden, driveway and fountain to be very beautiful. Mix just thought it was creepy.

But it was the house that most people noticed first. It was massive, at least four stories with large windows and a pitched roof. The whole house was a dark grey stone – sort of like the stuff churches and convents are made off – the roof made of small tiles. The front doors were large and wooden, swinging inwards, with a huge knocker on the front. Steps lead to the front door, two large stone dragons guarding each side of the stairs, also made of dark smoothed off stone. To the side off the house were some stables and what I assumed to be servants quarters. The back garden was never seen beyond the fence, though it intrigued me. The whole mansion and land was extremely run down – dragon statues with large chips out of them, windows broken, vines creeping up the stones, tiles fallen off the roof, fountain dirty and mossy – but I thought it just made the whole illusion even more intense. The council didn't seem to have the heart to tear down the piece of history, yet, they didn't have the money to fix it up, either. So it stayed as it had for the last few hundred years – huge, menacing and rotting.

As the town had grown around the mansion, so had the stories – affecting the price of the real estate that was stuffed on either side off the large iron fence. My parents – never having much money – took the chance at the cheap housing prices and bought a four-bedroom house just one street down from the huge mansion. That's what was so strange about driving though our town. It seemed like normal suburbia until you reached Whitestone Manor. House, house, house, apartment block, convenience store, pizza shop, house, house, house, huge creepy mansion, house, house, house. I had grown to live with it. And love it. I walked past it everyday on the way to school. Growing up as kids around the mansion, my brother and I had always tried to sneak in through the gaps in the large fence. But we never got further than halfway up the drive before one of us – namely, my brother, Adam – got too scared and came back.

"Well, fey were said to be faeries of the land," Mix began. "They come in all kinds of shapes. Trolls, pixies, mermaids. Some are as big as trees or have vines for arms. Others have tentacles for hair or hooves for feet. Some are green with wings or shimmer like diamonds. They live in courts – sort of like tribes or gangs – and play with humans. Make fun of them. Steal babies and make people fall in and out of love–"

"Like _A Midsummer's Night Dream_," I put in.

Mix ignored me and continued. "Abduct young girls and hold them for entertainment."

"So basically evil, like you said."

Mix gave me a look. "Fey don't like iron. Anyway, I heard that there is a faery in that house. And he can't ever leave because of the iron gates. Supposedly he steals young girls, teenagers, to work for him for the rest of their lives. When one dies, he abducts another."

Yes, I'd heard this story too. It bored me. "If he can't leave the house, how does he steal the girls?" I pointed out.

"He lures them in. Takes them from their families and distorts the memories of loved ones so they forget."

"And if no one remembers, where do the stories come from?" I asked.

Mix clearly hadn't thought that through. She frowned, her chubby features turning sour. "You're too sceptical," she said bitterly.

"You're too gullible," I shot back. "I'll prove it to you. I will go into that house, look around and bring something back just to show you. I won't be abducted by some evil faery and be his hostage until I'm old and grey."

"No!" Mix looked alarmed. "You can't go in there. What if you get hurt?"

"You know exactly where I am. Just call the police if I'm not back in two hours," I shrugged. I walked along the side of the fence, away from the gate, trying to find a place I could climb or squeeze through. I didn't find either – instead I found a large tree that hung over the side of the fence. I easily swung myself onto a low branch and stood.

"Don't even think about it, Giselle," Mix called. I was already half way up the tree. I had always been good in gym with fairly good muscle tone from playing basketball most of my life.

"Too late," I shouted back, standing carefully on a trunk hanging precariously over the iron spokes. "Give me two hours and I'll be back. See ya."

"Giselle!" Mix screamed, bordering on hysterical, as I jumped onto a stone with the iron spoke broken off leaving a gap for me to stand on.

And yes, my name is Giselle. My mother had always been a fan of ballet and Giselle was her favourite. (A very cheery story about a girl falling in love with a guy who proposes to her, but forgets to mention that he was already engaged. He was some rich guy pretending to be a peasant. When she finds out that her betrothed was engaged to this rich important person she promptly goes mad and commits suicide before the end of the first act. Then as the guy, who actually loved Giselle, visits her grave, Giselle's ghost has to save him from the other ghosts of women – who had also been cheated by guys – and want to kill Giselle's man for revenge, by making him dance until he dies of exhaustion. Giselle saves him and they dance a pas de deux before he leaves and Giselle is able to go to heaven – she wasn't before because she committed suicide and that's not allowed by God and whatever. Like I said, a cheery story. My mother obviously didn't see anything morbid in naming her only daughter after this ballet.) She tried to get me into ballet when I was young, but I bluntly refused. My mother was always really disappointed because she said my beauty was wasted on basketball. I said that that was just plain stupid. Whatever.

The fence was way too high to jump from without breaking something, so I decided I could hang myself from the edge and drop the rest of the way. Then I would only be falling three or so feet. I turned around and climbed slowly off the side of the fence, hanging dangerously off the ledge with my hands. There were no footholds in the smooth stone, so I let go, pushing myself away from the wall, falling with a thud on my feet and collapsing to the ground. I stood and brushed myself off. That was when I realised I would have to find a new way to get back over the fence without the aid of a tree. Oh well. I'd figure that out when the time came.

I began walking up the long drive, and I swear it took me over ten minutes. Still, the dark tunnel of pine trees, that enclosed me like a living corridor, awed me. I turned once to see Mix's small, plump form watching me from the gates. I waved at her as she gestured for me to return. I laughed and kept walking. When I reached the fountain and stared upon the beautifully melancholic house, I realised just how big it was. From a distance it looked huge, and close up it was even bigger. A massive monster staring down upon me from the dark skies beyond it. I noticed how cold it was and pulled my jacket around me tighter. And the sky did actually look very gloomy, giving the whole effect so much more emphasis, and making me worry that I would have to walk back in the rain. But then, I doubted much rain would get through those pine trees. I walked around the dilapidated fountain and stepped close to one of the dragon statues that guarded the few stairs to the door. I hadn't really noticed the size of them from the gates, but standing next to them they were a good foot taller than my 5'8 feet (and a whole lot more menacing). I touched the dragon's face, mouth, bared teeth, small eyes, long snout, and thought that he was a very beautiful creature. Agile and lean. If not for the fact he was stone and non-existent. Still, he was beautiful.

"Do you have a name?" I asked softly. He didn't answer. I didn't take it personally.

I took my time climbing the few stairs to the door and knocked loudly with the rusty knocker, just for kicks. I was only slightly surprised when I didn't get an answer. I pushed lightly on the door, but it didn't move. I hadn't expected it too. I knew the hinges would be rusted and broken but I still wanted to be careful. This time I pushed harder, putting more force and banging my shoulder against the door. It moved a fraction, releasing some dirt around the cracks in the door.

I pushed again, even harder, and the doors swung inwards, throwing me forward with the force of the blow. It didn't even occur to me that perhaps it was strange that the door came open with only two heaves. As I took a step forward into the gloomy house, the sky opened up behind me, releasing the sun in all its glory. I smiled, glad that even though it was the middle of winter, the sun felt it necessary to make an appearance every now and then. The dark clouds moved away and soon the sky was only spotted with a few wisps every so often. My mood improved immediately and I strode into the mansion confidently. As the sun came out, the house didn't seem so creepy. In fact, sunlight filtered through the slightly frosted windows and opened up the room I was now standing in.

It was a foyer type thing, a coat rack near the door and marble floors. In fact, the whole room was made of marble. It surprised me, considering I expected to see black stone. Apparently not. Everything was made of white and grey marble. Now I understood the name _Whitestone _Manor. It was fleetingly beautiful, and extremely cold at the same time. The room had high ceilings with a large chandelier hanging from the roof. If I had paid attention to the lighting instead of just skimming my eyes over it, I would have noticed the seventy-five watt globes in place of candles. And considering the house was supposed to have been empty for the last five hundred or so years any electrical work would've seemed strange. But I wasn't paying attention. I was awed by the beauty. I also should have deemed it strange that the house was impeccably clean. Another small detail that should've sent alarm bells ringing. I'm not sure if this is because I'm terribly unobservant or because of my no-panic-skim-over-important-and-scary-facts thing. Either way I figure it's a bad thing.

Other than the coat rack and a few small tables that harboured vases, there was nothing in the room. I decided to move on. From the foyer, there were three options. A door leading to the left, a door leading to the right and double doors opening in front of me. I picked the door that lead straight ahead. I figured I couldn't get too lost if I was moving in one direction. It opened easily – another fact I missed – and showed a dim corridor that seemed to go on forever. There was a long royal blue rug that had been laid over the cold marble floor. Along the walls were brackets I assumed would have held candles when the mansion was in its prime. Now that I was away from any windows, the corridor seemed much darker, shadows flitting in and out around shapes and objects.

I stepped carefully onto the rug on the floor, the carpet muffling my footsteps, and began my journey down the never-ending corridor. I should have been surprised that no dust came from the carpet as I stook wary steps. But once again, my brain eluded me and I didn't notice anything except the terribly amazing paintings that hung from the walls at even intervals between doors. Some of the paintings were of people. Other times they were landscapes. Each one was painted as if seen through opaque glass or misty water; lines smudged, far away objects indistinct. I got the feeling each painting was done by the same artist, but I didn't know whom, since none of them were signed.

The paintings that stood out the most were the ones of young girls. They were all standing in the frame – as if it were a window they were standing next to – with a black boarder. They all stared out of the painting at an unknown object, as if the meaning of their life was there. Maybe it was. The background was dark, the objects around the girls vague and hard to make out. Perhaps it was a room. I thought I could see the end of a bed, and the outline of a mirror. I wasn't sure.

I'm not sure how long I stood in that corridor, squinting to see the paintings through the darkness. Sometimes I had to use the light from my phone to see the paintings, especially as I got deeper into the corridor. I walked past all the doors that led away from the corridor, not wanting to make too many unremembered turns and getting lost in this huge dark house. At least I had a little common sense. Just not enough.

I was so distracted scrutinising each of the beautifully exquisite paintings I was surprised when I reached the end of the corridor. When I did, I could see light coming from underneath the cracks of large wooden double doors within the marble walls. I opened the outward swinging doors slowly and slipped though quickly. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the new brightness. But once all the white spots had disappeared from my sight I gasped aloud – not from shock or fright, we have already discussed my slight panic problem – it was so beautiful. I was standing on a landing type thing – made of marble – that led down gorgeously serene white marble stairs to a large room with huge floor space. The whole room looked more like a church than a house, and deserved to be a tourist destination in some European country, not in my small town with unworthy citizens who were too scared to see such beauty.

The light I had seen under the door had come from sunlight filtering through high stained-glass windows along the back wall. I realised that at no time had I moved upwards, so most of this room would have been partially underground. In fact, the windows would've only just made it above ground level. That also meant that I had walked along the whole width of the house.

Each stained glass window was different, with all kinds of abstract shapes. But one stood out. It was placed in the centre of the far wall, much larger than the rest. The background was black, with a large geometric rose in the centre. The petals were a deep red, stem bright green and thorns a dark brown. The rest of the room was made of beautifully carved white stones, intricate patterns and designs swirling over them. Above the windows were balconies on the back wall and around the sides of the room, hanging over spaces I assumed be used to place a strings group or a piano. I guessed the balconies on each side of the room must lead off to different parts of the house. I was intrigued as to how to get up there. The room was simply furnished, but the furniture was antique, all elaborately made down to the last detail. Light filtered through the windows, casting eerie coloured shapes around the room, making everything seem even more surreal.

I stood at the top of the marble stairs with a straight back, head tilted upwards. I took a step to the right and sunk into a low ballet curtsey – Mum may not have been able to make me take lessons, but I'd seen enough ballets in my short span of life, trust me – holding out an imaginary skirt. Linking arms with my imaginary partner I walked down the stairs, nodding and smiling to my imaginary audience.

"Thank you," I said graciously. "I thank all of you. Without you, I would've achieved nothing. Thank you." At the bottom of the stairs I made another curtsey to my audience, then to my partner. I took large ballet-like walks to the centre of the room and stood with my feet in place, as if I were about to perform. In my head, I tried to summon music. It didn't work.

I dropped my posture and scuffed the floor with my shoe, enjoying the squeal it made. It reminded me of basketball. With an imaginary ball I dribbled the length of the room and did a lay-up under one of the balconies. I cupped my hands around my mouth and made a cheering noise. I slapped the hands of my imaginary teammates and walked back to the centre of the room.

I took another look at the large room from the new angle. Looking up, there was a large chandelier that hung above my head, attached to a white marble roof with the same patterns as the walls. In the left corner I noticed a beautiful grand piano, looking so delicate that I was worried it would fall apart if I touched it. Other than the piano there were only small tables placed against the wall. The centre of the room was bare.

A ballroom, my mind suddenly clicked over. I took a ballroom stance with an invisible dance partner and began a waltz I didn't know the steps to. I closed my eyes and let the piano play in my head. Light, fleeting notes over heavy, drawn-out deep ones. One, step, step. Two, step, step. Three, step, step. Four, step, step. I stopped moving and opened my eyes, letting the music fade out in my head. It echoed around the room before it grew as faint as my footsteps.

I turned slowly, taking my bearings and looking at the amazing beauty of the room again. I shook my head in awe and took a deep breath. And that is when I realised something was wrong. The air smelt fresh. Clean. Even fragranced. In fact, the whole house had smelt like that. There wasn't the musty, damp, mildew smell that should have hung around. I looked around the room again and noticed things I hadn't because I'd been too awestruck.

There was no dust.

No dirt.

No cobwebs.

The chandelier above my head housed light bulbs, not candles.

And the weirdest thing was that on each of the tiny tables scattered against the walls was a small vase with one black rose in each.

Okay, this was not good. I didn't panic, but something in my brain registered that it might be best to get out of the creepy house that seemed to have been cleaned recently and installation of fairly involved electrical work. I got the feeling there was definitely something wrong here. And while I didn't believe in fey or faeries as Mix did, I did believe in crazy humans who lived in creepy old mansions and waited for stupid teens to wander in and get themselves hurt. I may not have panicked, but I had enough sense to get out of that house. Or I thought I was going to get out of the house.

It was about here that my whole life ended.


	3. River

**2. River**

I began to turn to make my way up the huge marble stairs, but a voice stopped me, hitting me with a force that I'd never felt before. There was something so compelling about the tone that I forgot why I wanted to leave.

"My dear girl, are you planning on leaving?" the voice said. I didn't recognise it, I only knew that it was somewhere above me. In one of the balconies, I assumed. I turned slowly, trying to find the source of the voice. It was deep, with a mocking undertone, silky and magnetic.

"Actually," I said, my voice sounding squeaky and pathetic next to the sleek one I'd just heard, "I was. I have a friend waiting for me outside."

"Yes," the voice said. I still couldn't find the body that went with it. "I sent her away. She was of no use to me."

"I see," I said, still calm, only slightly confused with what this voice was saying. "Well, I have to be home for dinner. Wouldn't want to intrude."

"Do not worry about that," the voice said. I could imagine the face smiling. "I fixed that too."

"Fixed it?" I asked. I hadn't noticed before, but I was standing on the balls of my feet, as if I were about to take a shot in basketball, ready for any sudden movement.

"Yes. Your family will not be asking for you anymore."

"I'm not sure you and I are on the same page. Perhaps you could jump back a few chapters and show yourself. An explanation would be nice too." I was still searching the room, looking for any sign of movement. So far nothing. Only the echoing voice from above. My brain wasn't thinking of an escape plan – as it should have been – I was simply intrigued. I kept turning over those small facts Mix had given me.

"Well, your family and friends no longer remember you. I removed you from their minds. Sorry about that, but I could not have anyone filing a missing persons report."

"Okay," I said, beginning to think this guy was a psycho. I also couldn't help thinking of the story Mix had told me.

_I heard that there is a faery in that house. And he can't ever leave because of the iron gates. Supposedly he steals young girls, teenagers, to work for him for the rest of their lives. Takes them from their families and distorts the memories of loved ones so they forget._

Ridiculous, I thought to myself. I couldn't believe I'd even considered it for a moment. Still, I was fascinated. Fascinated enough to stay anyway. "Why would you do that?" I asked.

"Because I needed a new maid. My last one was getting on and I had to do away with her. It was lucky you stumbled along. Perfect timing."

"So, you are planning to keep me hostage?"

"I guess you could say that. I prefer the phrase, you staying here to help me, but whatever works for you."

"But this would be against my own will, I assume."

"If your will does not include staying, then yes, you would be here against your own will."

"I really don't think I want to do that though. You know how it is with having a life and everything. Sure, sometimes it gets in the way, but I would like to keep it all the same."

"You are not scared," the voice observed.

"Should I be?"

"Yes. All the girls who have entered this room have been trembling. You are not."

"Where are you?"

"I do not think you would like to see me just yet. It would definitely scare you."

"I don't get scared all that easily."

"Trust me. I will scare you." There seemed to be a trace of hurt in his voice. I wondered.

"Trust _me_. I'll be fine."

"As you wish," I heard the voice say. I turned to look out at the ballroom from the top of the stairs. There was a swooping sound, but I couldn't see anything. I heard the voice again, and this time it was clearer; coming from the shadows underneath the stained glass windows. But the figure was no more than a black silhouette. When he stepped into view, he was the last thing I had expected from such an alluring voice.

He was hideous. Tall, by any standards, with obvious muscles underneath his casual jeans and shirt. It was hard to determine an age, but he seemed young. No more than twenty five or so. His skin was deathly pale, lips a cold blue, as if he were a corpse. Where his eyebrows should have been were hard ridges – a lot like a lizard – and the skin on his face, neck and hands were covered in calluses. His eyes were terrifying – a bright blue – with no pupil, iris or white. Just blue. A cold bottomless blue. They were also slightly upturned in a way that reminded me of a cat. A square jaw and sharp cheekbones accompanied a pointed nose. In contrast to the deathly ashen skin, his hair was a deep terrifyingly unnatural black. It, like his clothes, was neat and placed carefully in a short crop, pushed behind his slightly pointed ears, and a few strands hanging over his forehead. All in all, his face was fairly narrow, placed upon a long neck and very squared shoulders. I couldn't tell what nationality he was – if he had one. He could have been European, Asian or African, for all I knew. In fact, his features were so distorted he could have been more animal than human.

Along his arms the veins stood out like very carefully placed tattoos. On the upper left arm, near his shoulder, peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeve, was a silver metal band made of many smaller entwined bands all joined to form a very ornate pattern. On the right arm was another metal band, only this one was on the forearm and wrapped itself from the back of his hand up to the elbow. It was only one band of metal, but it had patterns and swirls carved into it with the utmost detail. I took in his overall look and realised I should be scared. He obviously wasn't human. But when he wore casual clothes you would expect to see on a teenage boy, it was almost comical. He smiled as he saw the reaction on my face and I almost stepped back. Behind the dead lips were small pointed teeth, sort of like a cat, and a black tongue.

"Now, I'm beginning to think we are reading completely different books. Can you go from the top again? In fact, let's just start with what the hell you are," I said with a fake smile.

"I am a faery."

"Faery?"

"Yes."

"Oh," I said. There it was. Then I was struck with realisation as to where I had heard the word fey before – other than when Mix had brought it up. I had read a teen book once that had talked about faeries, fey and courts. All too confusing. "But I thought you were called fey or something."

"I see you know a little. That is good. Fey are faeries."

"Right," I said nodding. "But aren't you meant to be with a court or something? A gang?"

"You are a clever girl. I will enjoy your company. More than just a pretty face." He paused, as if sensing something. "Yes, generally speaking fey are joined in courts. Courts provide protection and a home. I choose not to join a court. I was never really accepted. I am a little… different to other fey."

"Right," I said, trying to gather my thoughts. Now I felt a little bad for disregarding Mix so quickly. But how was I supposed to know faery stories were more than just a myth? Then another thought hit me. Why was I so quick to just accept that the supernatural existed? Because it was ridiculous. The whole concept was absurd, insane. Maybe I was going crazy. I was almost calmed by this thought. Maybe I'd fallen off the stonewall and passed out and somehow was hallucinating all this. Maybe I'd been drugged, and I was hallucinating all of this.

My mind kept coming up with scenarios telling me that this wasn't real. That everything you're told from birth, that the evil creatures of the night don't really exist, really did. I hadn't realised, but my hands were shaking slightly. I was frustrated and angry, rather than scared. I had no idea what was going on.

Whether this guy was real or not, I figured I was in over my head.

But how could this even be possible? How could all human intelligence and research miss something like this? Another species. Living right next to us. My brain kept saying it wasn't possible.

But my subconscious was saying, _Why not? Why couldn't faeries exist? The myths had to come from somewhere. And are you really so arrogant to believe that humans are always right? They've been wrong before. Many times. In fact they are usually wrong. How can you say that faeries don't exist when you have no proof? Humans used to believe that the atom was a whole single mass until someone cracked it open and out came protons, neutrons and electrons. _

In a way I hated my subconscious for giving me a reason to believe. For giving me a reason to doubt everything I'd been so sure about. I was still clinging to the I'd-gone-crazy theory.

But could this person… creature have messed with my family's heads in that short time I was in the house? I quickly looked at my watch. Okay, it wasn't exactly a short time. At least four hours. Wow. Where did the time go? So I guess the question was whether this guy could actually mess with memories at all?

"I see this is a little hard for you to take in," the faery said. "That is okay. I am patient."

"So, just what do you plan to do with me?" I asked, not sure exactly what answer I wanted.

"Let us start with introductions first, shall we?" the faery smiled. I noticed he never used conjunctions when he spoke and every word was said with all syllables pronounced with precision, as if everything he said was carefully thought out and practiced before he even opened his mouth.

"Introductions?" The word tasted sour in my mouth. As if it didn't quite fit in this setting with this hideous man – monster – asking me – telling me – that I would have to stay with him. It wasn't right. Introductions were for happy settings: parties, dinners, restaurants, with laughter. This wasn't an introduction. This was an ultimatum.

"I am River, one of the fey," the faery smiled at me confirming that this wasn't an introduction, but a taunt.

"Giselle, just an average human," I matched.

River laughed, blue eyes searching me. "You are not one to fear easily. I like that. Although, many girls are defiant until they realise their fate."

"I'm not defiant." I wasn't defensive. It was a fact.

"No," River reconsidered, "you are not." He eyed me carefully. It unnerved me. I knew I should be scared. Panicked. I had just discovered that faeries existed. Any average human would be at least a little startled. Or shocked. Or panicked. Not me. I was frustrated that the human world was in the dark about… everything. And I was just that little bit worried that the faery would deliver what he had promised. And I figured that probably wasn't the best thing.

River examined me closely. I wasn't sure if he was waiting for me to speak or not, so I stayed silent. The echoing ballroom was still. Just as that happened the room darkened. Clouds must have been rolling over the sun again. The coloured geometric sunlight shapes that had been thrown around the room disappeared. But for some reason the room only became more beautiful. Dark and seedily ominous. And River fit in so perfectly. I wondered what my presence would look like in the shadowy room. Casual jeans, converse high tops, black unzipped hoodie over a long-sleeved tight grey top, I'd slept in, under my white T-shirt. My coppery wild hair that flew around my head and messy blue eyes that seemed to give off a weird sense of beauty I never understood. My brother said it was because I was confidant, never scared, but I wasn't sure. I was never comforted by the fact I was pretty – my mother always gushing over me, my brother agonisingly angry when I stole the attention of his friends, my father teasing me about boyfriends, my boyfriends irritatingly insecure (probably why they never lasted long), Mix playfully jealous – with people always mentioning it as if I had no other qualities. And yes, I am aware of the fact that genetically I'm better off than some other girls. I had been told by a few that they would _kill_ to look like me. Well, that's absurd. Then there are the girls who seemed to hate me just because I was pretty. That doesn't even make any sense. That would be like me hating someone because genetically they inherited better eyesight or hearing than me. And anyway, I wasn't _that_ beautiful. I'd seen many other girls prettier than me. That's what my brother had attributed to my confidence. I was never swayed.

"So," I said, breaking the surprisingly secure silence. "Now what?"

"Would you like me to show you where you will be living for the rest of your existence?" River asked, playful smiled tugged at his lips. Another challenge. This one I wasn't up for.

"Preferably, I'd like to go home," I told him, slouching my stance to make it look relaxed. I hadn't noticed I'd tensed up.

"If you wish it. Though, as I have explained, no one will remember your face," River said, tilting his head at me.

"Don't take any offence, but I'd like to test that theory," I said.

"Go ahead. You are free to leave," River told me. "But, if I may, I will escort you there and back. Sometimes the shock registers later. It can be very confronting when your family doesn't recognise you. And I will need to wipe your family's memory free again. Can not have them believing you are some crazy stalker claiming to be their prodigal daughter."

"No," I said, wryly, calling River's bluff – what I desperately hoped to be a bluff. "We wouldn't want that." River smiled, revealing the pointed teeth, making me slightly uncomfortable. He walked slowly and carefully up the stairs towards me, as if he expected me explode at any time. I didn't. River's smile only increased as he approached. If there was anything that frightened me about him, it was his eyes. Like shiny blue marbles placed in his eye sockets. The reminiscence of old biology classes in me decided that he shouldn't be able to see. Didn't you need a lens and retina? But then many animals had only one shade of colour in their eyes. They could still see. Maybe River was more animal than human. I couldn't be sure. River kept moving towards me, not seeing my unease. I got the feeling he wasn't very good at reading people. He stood so close I could smell him. Surprisingly he smelt nice. Fresh and clean. Not what I had expected. He held out a hand – the hand with the metal band that wound from his wrist to his elbow – but I hesitated.

"Trust me, my way is much faster than yours is," he told me smugly. Another test. I placed my hand softly on his. His skin was scratchy and cold, but not uncomfortably so. Then, the world disappeared in a swooping sound I distinctly remembered hearing earlier in the ballroom.

When I opened my eyes again, everything was normal. I was outside my house. The old brick house with brown tiled roof and windows from the living and lounge room. My room and my brother's room were on the top floor. Our parents on the bottom with the kitchen and TV room. My ordinary house, a street away from the mansion. Had my little expedition been a dream? A hallucination. I frowned in confusion.

"You did not scream?" a voice asked me. But this time I recognised it. I turned my head to see something I had never expected. It was a human boy. He was looking at me quizzically, no more than fifteen. I noticed I was holding his hand. I let go quickly and took a step back.

"No. I didn't scream. Was I supposed to?" I asked the child.

"Most girls do. Although, most of them are screaming before I take their hands, so perhaps you are an exception." It was River, in a human form. Well, that was the magic for you. He wasn't a very good-looking human either – pimply, stumpy and pale – but he had the same alluring voice. It was unsettling.

"Is this… magic?" For some reason saying the word aloud seemed to make all of this craziness more real. Not something I wanted to be true. Somehow I think I was still wishing I were crazy.

"A glamour," the boy said, brushing down his non-descript clothing. "Sort of like an illusion. It protects me from the sunlight." I frowned, wondering what sunlight he was talking about. It was cold and dark, the beginnings of night setting in. I shook it off.

"What now?" I asked, looking back towards the house.

"We knock. I would not just go in, even if you do have keys. People have been known to call the police when strangers enter their house." River chuckled, as if remembering something funny I was unaware of. I ignored it and strode up the driveway to my door. I knocked loudly, ignoring the doorbell I knew didn't work.

"Coming!" I heard my brother shout gruffly. He was two years older than me and I could imagine him pulling himself away from the computer reluctantly. I'd told him it wasn't good to spend so much time in his tiny dark room, squinting at his computer screen. He usually just threw something at me and kicked me out.

I waited impatiently. Anxiously, I realised. River stood near my mailbox at the end of the drive. Waiting. I ignored him. My brother opened the door, slouched on the doorframe. As soon as he saw me, a look of confusion crossed his face, as if he knew me from somewhere, but he couldn't pin where exactly. But then he shook it off and looked me up and down, as so many of his friends had, appraising my casual beauty. I was disgusted. And knew there was something wrong. From what I knew, brothers didn't usually look at their sisters like they were imagining them naked.

"Are you going to let me in? Or just stand there like a doofus?" I asked him casually, hoping something about my sisterly tone would register.

"Do I know you?" he asked carefully, unsure as to how to approach me. He probably thought I was some one-night-stand he'd had at a party. Wouldn't surprise me. He was also good looking – and a complete player who knew how to use his looks. Tall and built – only from the footy he played during the winter – with dark chestnut hair and golden skin that girls fell all over.

"Yeah, Adam, I'm you're sister, idiot. And cold. Let me in," I said, but I didn't push past him, as I usually would have.

"I don't remember you. I'm sorry, what was your name?" he asked politely. He'd never looked like me, even when we were younger, as so many people had commented. Now, it was working against me.

"Giselle. Your sis," I said, my voice a little weaker. I couldn't look at River. I just couldn't bare the smug smile that I knew would be on his face.

"I don't have a sister. I'm sorry," Adam said to me. These words stung me like ice daggers in my chest. I gulped down a breath. He wasn't lying. This wasn't a joke. This was real. My own brother didn't recognise me. Had I not been the one to flick eggshells in his hair this morning while making pancakes, only to have him stomp off to shower? Hadn't I been the one to tease him last week about the bra I had found shoved under his bed when I was looking for some money so I could go into the city with Mix? Wasn't I the one who sidled up with him to watch bad action movies on a Friday night? Wasn't I the one who he had grown up teaching me how to perfect my lay ups and dribbling skills? Hadn't I been the one he'd been so angry – and a little jealous – at when I had kissed one of his best friends while he had come to study? Hadn't I been the one who flicked the light on in his room to wake him up this morning, only to have Adam yell at me and roll over, going back to sleep?

I _was_ his sister.

Past tense.

"Sorry about that," I heard River's smooth voice come from behind me. "It was a dare." He gave a loud belly laugh. I wasn't convinced. Then he whispered in my ear, "Do you need to see more? Or are you convinced?"

Adam gave an uneasy laugh, staring at River as if he was terrified, and shut the door.

I stood, iced to the front step. "How?" I muttered.

"It is the will of my magic. A gift."

"Can you give it back?" I asked desperately. My throat was suddenly very dry. This time River's laugh was real.

"And what use would you be to me then?" Then he took my hand and led me away from my childhood home and stunned brother. I didn't look back. I couldn't.

"Let me see Mix," I said, stopping abruptly. Mix would remember me. She knew the stories were true. She'd understand.

"She is on her way to a friend's house," River informed me. "But if you wish, you may see her."

"Yes," I said. "I want to see her." And then the suburban surroundings disappeared, making way for a much more grim setting in no more than a swooping sound. I immediately knew where Mix was headed. Johnny's. Around me was nothing but dilapidated houses, apartment blocks and abandoned windows. It was dull and foreboding, a silence enveloping the whole street, making the place even more eerie. Johnny had never been a safe person to be around. But it was that danger that had attracted Mix and I to him. He had dropped out of school at fifteen and taken up an old house in the bad parts of town. Then he had set up a little… business. Basically, he supplied most parties with all the illegal stuff no one was allowed to talk about. He was nineteen or so now with a strange charm. Tattoos, piercings and fearless manner. But he was dangerous, and not worth the effort (no matter how good a kisser he was). I scanned the streets quickly to see Mix's curved form moving towards us. She stopped short when she saw us, her round, heart shaped face giving an expression of concern. What was she doing back at Johnny's? We'd both decided it'd be better off if we never saw him again. We'd made a promise. A pact between us. Why would she break that? I broke off that sudden train of thought. She didn't break the pact. To her, the pact never existed. I never existed. And suddenly I was having trouble breathing.

"Is this too much?" River asked, way too much pleasure in his voice.

"Get me out of here," I said through gritted teeth. And again, he took my hand, and everything disappeared in a whoosh. My whole life. Me. I disappeared, with nothing left. I was like the last leaf before winter stood in and enveloped everything. The last leaf fluttering in the wind. Not meaning anything to anyone. Nothing but a passing of time. And then the wind would pick me up and no one would ever see me again. But then, I wouldn't ever be missed either.


	4. Hostage

**3. Hostage**

"And this," River said, opening a door to a large room with many stoves, ovens and fridges, "is the kitchen. I had the electrical work put in a few years ago. You should find everything you need in here."

"Am I cooking?" I asked, my voice toneless.

"Yes," River stared back at me, his facial expression blank. "What else did you expect?" I didn't answer. What was I supposed to say? River moved on. Apparently, most of the rooms I needed were on the first floor of the east wing. Cleaning, cooking, etcetera. Though River said I was allowed in any area of the house I wished. Except the south wing. The south wing was off limits. I wasn't sure why and honestly I wasn't interested. All that registered was _no south wing for me_. Tick, got it, move along. I was okay with that.

"You will eat dinner with me, in the dining room, every night at seven," River said, licking his lips with his black tongue. The dining room was in one of the doors off the corridor that led to the ballroom, I vaguely remembered.

"With you?" I asked.

"Yes," he laughed. "I do like the company."

"Really?" I replied, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "Even with the whole I-never-leave-my-mansion thing." I thought River would be angry at what I'd said, and I bit my tongue, not really meaning to let that last comment slip out.

River laughed softly. It sounded so mesmerising it didn't deserve to belong to that body. "I stay in the house out of necessity, not want. If were able to go out more often, I would. It is simply that I do not deal well in the sun. Or with more than one human at a time."

"Right," I nodded. River led me on. He took me up a few flights of stairs and past many doors until he reached one with a tiny knocker. He opened it slowly and motioned for me to enter. I did.

"This is your room," he said, obviously pleased with himself. "You may do with it what you wish." It was beautiful room, no doubt about that. The marble still surrounded me, but I didn't mind so much because this marble had a slight tinge of blue. How, I wouldn't have known. There was one window on the back wall, slightly opaque. Something about looking out of this window, seeing the world through a fuzzy haze, seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't work out how it was familiar. Inside the room it seemed to be slightly warmer than the rest of the mansion. It was furnished with a large chestnut wardrobe to one side, a dresser and mirror next to it. On the other side of the room was my huge four-poster bed made of shiny mahogany timber with overhanging pieces of soft blue fabric, like the gothic beds seen in old style movies. Next to the bed on either side were matching bedside tables with some of my things already arranged.

"My room," I echoed.

"Yes, I have already put your things in the wardrobe and drawers. I had to get rid of the evidence from your house."

"Naturally," I said indifferently. River looked at me, checking to see if I was making fun of him.

"That door," River pointed to a door that stood at the back of the room on the left sidewall beside my dresser, "leads to your own bathroom. I also had plumbing installed when the electrical was being put in. You have hot water for anything you wish." He said it as if he had done me some great favour. I shuddered to think of both the electrician and plumber who had done the work. Were they human? Had they been disposed of when they had completed their job? Or had River just erased the memory? "Well, I will leave you to get settled. Remember, dinner is at seven, and is a formal occasion. Dress nicely. Tonight I will fetch something to eat, but tomorrow you will need to go shopping and collect some food. I will not be cooking again."

"Seems fair," I answered.

River searched for any sign I was making fun of him. When he decided I wasn't, his tone became softer. "Some of the girls found that they enjoyed my company after a while."

"I've heard of that. It's called Stockholm syndrome. And it's simply out of necessity for survival, not a particular liking of character. And personally, forming a bond with my captor is not all that high on my priorities right now."

"You truly are such a treasure. Very intelligent," River said with laugh. I was shocked. I thought he'd be angry, or upset. Apparently he was neither. "Now, I am fairly sure you will not be foolish enough to create some sort of elaborate escape charade and try to win back the minds of your family, but in case you do, heed this warning. Firstly, there is no way to retrieve memories. Human minds are weak and fragile. Easy to break. Harder to fix. Like a badly made toy. And secondly, if you try to escape, I will kill your brother. And I know how fond you are of him. Each escape attempt, means another life. The same rules apply for suicide."

"I'm not allowed to leave the house?" I asked. I wasn't panicked; I just knew that River was laying down ground rules.

"Oh, no, of course you can leave the house. How are you supposed to shop? And in any case, the land my mansion is harboured in is very pretty, and I noticed how you fall for pretty things." River chuckled. "We will talk more at dinner. For now, freshen up, rest. I will see you in little less than an hour." And then, River was gone with a whooshing sound – the same I had heard when in the ballroom, and on the way to my house, and when I saw Mix. A sound I knew I'd come to dread.

As the sun began to go down I sat on the bed – my bed – and watched it through the softly opaque glass. It gave the whole view a more surreal look. As if I were seeing the world through an abstract painting. That was when it hit me. The paintings on the walls in the corridor to the ballroom. They had all been painted looking through this window. Things became clearer. Some of the pictures had been of women looking out into nothing. Others had been of a landscape, as if looking down. It dawned on me that River was the artist. He'd painted his previous maids by looking in through the window from outside, and painted different landscapes by looking out from this room. Amazing how one window could have so many different pictures in it.

It scared me to think that I should end up becoming one of those still maids, standing by the window with nothing more than a hideous monster as a companion, staring out at the back garden of their own pathetic existence. And how many maids had their been? I just remembered the many paintings. Too many. I didn't even notice the tears before they hit my hands, which were folded in my lap, and dried, leaving salty trails. I shuddered and realised I was cold. I got up slowly, noticing I was very stiff. I'd been sitting for a long time. It also occurred to me that it was dark. I really should have known that since I had been staring out the window, but I guess that that detail had slipped my mind.

This sort of stuff wasn't meant to be real. This stuff didn't exist, not in real life anyway. How? Why couldn't this be a dream? Maybe I was dead? No, I didn't want to think that because then I would be stuck in this place for the rest of my deathly existence. This was real. Magic was real. Faeries were real. I'm crazy. I glanced at the beautifully made clock on the bedside table and it took me a while to actually interpret the numbers. My brain seemed a little numb. Maybe I was in shock. Maybe I was normal after all. Or not.

The clock said it was five to seven. The words, _dress nicely_, echoed in my head as I opened the huge wardrobe. I found that most of my clothes had been packed away, along with a few things that weren't mine. The first thing that caught my eye was a beautiful midnight blue silk dress hung up. I took it from the hook and held it against me, looking in the mirror. It had been hand sewn, that much was obvious. It fell around my feet with a soft fluttering effect. It had a low cut V neck with thick straps that fell off the shoulders and a sash around the centre. There was subtle silver embroidery that wound from the bottom of the dress, up and around the waist till it reached the left shoulder and continued around the back. Beads were sewn within it, making them look like tiny stars against the fabric of the dress.

The corset looked as thought it were made with real bone, the laces thin soft ribbon, delicate enough to look as though they would break at a touch. The petticoat made the dress fall out at the waist. It looked like a ball gown from the seventeen hundreds. It probably was.

It was so amazingly exquisite I knew I could never wear it. I placed it back in the wardrobe and found a plain black skirt and light green top to wear. I studied myself carefully. My mind wandered back to the story of Giselle – the ballet. Somehow, I had the illusion that my fate would be similar to hers. Trying to escape or kill myself was no good – he'd just kill my family. So what did I do now? Just do what he says? Live like his maid? Would he try to… would I be used in other ways? More than just housework? Would I become the ghost of Giselle?

After too long wandering the marble walls of the mansion I finally found the dining room. I walked in quietly, closing the door softly behind me. The room was long and thin, no windows, marble walls, roof and floor, with brackets around the room, harbouring light globes, looking out of place. As a substitute for windows, paintings were placed at even intervals along the walls. That same style of paintings from the corridor to the ballroom. The corridor that also led to this room. I shuddered looking at the timeless faces of girls – girls like me – standing by their window. At the far end of the room was a large fireplace with a mantle surrounding it. On the mantle were tiny figurines. I could hardly see them from where I was standing. They looked like… faeries. Stereotypical faeries with pretty wings and floaty dresses. I was confused immediately. I put the thought out of my mind and turned my attention to what I was about to endure. In the centre of the room was a long granite table – cool grey and black stone, a change from all the white – with chestnut coloured chairs adoring the heads and sides. Surprisingly, River didn't sit at the head, as I would have expected him to. He stood when I entered, giving me a sharp pointed smile and gestured for me to sit opposite. I obeyed. His looks still shocked me. The infinite blue eyes that looked like startlingly bright marbles, the black tongue that clicked too often, the scaly, callused wan skin and deathly look to his lips. He honestly did look more like a corpse than a real person. He belonged on a cold metal table with a scalpel being dug into his chest, not at a dining table, smile on his face, plate of hot food placed in front of him, unnaturally normal clothing. This didn't fit. I was startled by my notion to hurt him. Never had I ever wanted to hurt or kill someone, yet that emotion had washed over me so quickly it made me ill. I sat before I could think of anything else disgusting. Still, if made we wonder if the ghosts from the paintings ever wanted to kill River. Maybe they just lost all hope. What was the point of trying to kill someone who was immortal?

"Glad you did not have too much trouble in finding the room," River said as I pushed my chair in, inspecting my food.

"I did," I answered blatantly.

"Oh," River said, seemingly surprised by my irritation. "That is fine. Dinner should still be warm." I stared down at my food. It looked like something exotic. Rice with a brown coloured sauce and meat chunks. "It is a curry. Just left overs from what Grace cooked a few nights ago. I can not cook at all." River chuckled at himself. I felt sick. Another maid had made this meal. Another me. Another ballerina Giselle. I pushed my plate away and shook my head. A dead woman had made this meal. I couldn't eat it. I watched River's face. He looked at me strangely, something looking like anger flashed in his eyes before he shook it off.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"Is that so?" River asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"If I may, can I go to sleep? I'm tired."

"I requested dinner. If you do not eat, then we shall at least talk," River said, pursing his lips. I nodded slowly. What could I ever have to say to him?

"What do you want to talk about? I have to warn you though; I'm not very experienced on the kidnapping-and-torturing thing."

"I have not – nor plan to – torture you, Giselle," River said, with a slight frown, as if he was unsure what I was getting so worked up about. It was the first time he had said my name. It made me shudder. River noticed this and the line his mouth was set in deepened further. "I must say, you are very different to the others I have taken in." The way he said _taken in_ made it sound like he had done these ghost girls a favour. "You are not scared, nor are you particularly angry or defiant. There has been no escape attempts, or attempts on my or your own life-"

"You said you would hurt my family if I tried that," I interjected.

"That does not mean others have not tried," River smiled thinly. I shuddered again, to think of what girls had done change their own fate. I didn't want to know. Ever.

"Just another obvious statement of your overwhelming popularity," I said, my voice snide, almost childish.

"You are very clever with words too," River said. "I will enjoy your company," he repeated. I didn't answer. What was I supposed to say? River looked at me quizzically.

"Yes?" I asked when I was uncomfortable with him staring.

"Tomorrow," he began, shaking off whatever he had been staring at me for, "would you like me to show you the garden? Even though it is winter it is still very beautiful." Another challenge.

"Do you look after it?" I asked, purposely dodging the question.

"No," River laughed, his deep pitch echoing around the room. "You attend to the garden. Though, in the winter not much needs to be done. It rains enough to sustain it and you do not really need to trim anything. Just the occasional rake of leaves."

"Me? I don't know how to garden."

"Then find out," River said bluntly, the laughter in his voice gone.

"Do you have internet?"

"Excuse me?" River asked, looking surprised that I'd spoken.

"Internet. On computers. Connects you to the World Wide Web," I said condescendingly.

"I know what it is," River said, his anger flaring for a second, showing on his face, before all traces of it had gone, making me wonder if he really had been angry. "There is a computer in the library. But it is my computer. You are forbidden from using it."

"What about my laptop?" I asked. I had gotten a laptop for Christmas last year. If River had the right cords I could easily hook up to the Internet. For some reason this gave me a stupid hope.

"I put it in the second drawer of the left hand side bed table."

"Can I use that to go on the Internet?"

"I suppose…" River considered. "But only under my consent."

"Okay," I nodded. "How do you even get internet in a place like this?"

"The same way I got electricity."

"But what about the companies that supply it? Don't they wonder why they are providing electricity for a house that's supposed to be abandoned?"

"Over the years I have learnt many trades. I was able to connect my power source to the houses next door. Most of the houses in this neighbourhood are supplying me with my power. They do not realise it, but they are paying an extra ten percent on all their bills." River looked pleased with himself. I'm sure I looked disgusted. "Do not worry, I monitor all the houses, if they need extra funding, I supply it for them."

"Well, that's okay then," I muttered sarcastically, looking at the granite table. Something else occurred to me. "Over the years? How old are you?"

"I have not aged in many years," River answered looking uncomfortable. I thought of the many maids hung up on River's walls and shuddered. I decided I didn't really want to know how old he was. Because if I knew that, I could work out how many maids he had kept. How many innocent girls he had stolen. How many families he had broken. How many girls who never had the chance to get married, have children, live life. How many girls he destroyed so he could live his comfortable life, with a pretty garden, pretty food, pretty house and a pretty pet to contradict his hideousness. I didn't want to know.

"May I please leave the table?" I asked, feeling like a child who hadn't finished her vegetables.

"I suppose so," River said with a wave of his hand. "Tomorrow I will be in the library for most of the day should you like me to show you the garden. You will also need to go shopping for dinner. I will make my own breakfast and lunch."

"I thought you couldn't cook," I said, already standing, the mahogany chair sliding soundlessly over the smooth marble floor.

"Well, magic can have many uses," River answered simply, taking another bite out of his food as he watched me stand. "I ask you to cook because I enjoy a human cooked meal. They taste so much more authentic. It is a nice reminder."

"Reminder?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Did you say you wanted to leave?" River asked in a tone that was obviously my dismissal. I nodded and walked the length of the room to the door, feeling like I was on death row, walking in chains down an echoing corridor, every set of eyes on me. In reality there was only one set of eyes on me, but the chains could be real enough. So could the death sentence.


	5. Jocelyn's Garden

**4. Jocelyn's Garden**

The night was gloomy and quiet. The sights and sounds I was so used to weren't there. The things I had grown up with. There was no faint light coming from the hallway or buzzing of the computer or furious typing of my brother or noisy scribbling of my mother. The night was hollow. I was hollow. I lay in the centre of my huge bed and stared at the ceiling. My room was murky and gave off scary shadows I wasn't used to. My mind was blank. And I'm not really sure how that happened. You know as a kid, when you play that game and try to completely empty your mind and not think about anything. It was so hard because you kept thinking about everything and anything. You would think about not thinking. I thought it was impossible to just be blank. To not think. To be void. Apparently not, because I achieved it. I don't remember or understand how, I just know that I was blank. I was nothing. Sometimes a face would flash up in my mind. My brother. Mix. Tom, one of my sleazy ex-boyfriends who was really hot and a great kisser, even though he was jerk. And then River's face would flash in my mind and I would shudder, slipping back into the depression I had made for myself within a night.

When I woke, it took me a moment to realise I'd fallen asleep. And when I'd come to that startling conclusion, I didn't understand why I was awake. I sat up slowly, letting the blankets fall around me. It was light in my room because I hadn't drawn the curtains shut last night. I stood up, my feet landing softly on the rug that covered the marble floor. And then I was unsure. Unsure of what to do. What did I usually do when I woke? My mind didn't understand.

_What now?_ I kept thinking. My eyes scanned the room, brushing over the vanity with all my things neatly – so unlike me – arranged, the huge wardrobe with my clothes all ready packed away, the desk that I hadn't noticed before, with a few of my books and miscellaneous gadgets scattered over it. Then I saw the door River had mentioned led to my own bathroom. Bathroom. That made some kind of sense to my shocked brain. I made my way to the door and opened it warily. It was brighter than I had expected and I squinted my eyes until they had adjusted. The walls were again washed with white marble, in contrast to the blue colour of my room, with a large window on the sidewall. The glass looked like it had been blown, or something similar, because it was thick, with tiny little bubbles strewn all over it, making it impossible to see in or out of. I ran my hand over the glass. It was cool to touch and ridged with the bubbles, but strangely smooth. At first I thought, _why would anyone put in opaque glass when the view is so pretty? _ And then I remember this was a bathroom, and while you wanted light, you didn't want people to be able to see in.

The whole room was huge, with a massive double basin – made of marble – and full mirror that covered the whole wall above the sinks. On the other wall there was a considerable marble bathtub – more like a spa – with feet and beautiful golden taps. Next to that was a recently installed shower with matching glass and faucets. Again I wondered how anyone would have been able to install such intricate and detailed plumbing in a house like this. Especially considering it was all made of marble. I just didn't understand how anyone would be able to install a hot and cold water system.

I slowly removed my clothes, noticing that I hadn't changed into pyjamas to sleep and I was still wearing my jeans. I let the clothes fall around my feet and I reached into the shower to turn on the hot water. The shower was ten times bigger than anything we had at home and much more luxurious. In fact, the whole house would be lovely to stay in – if it weren't for the fact I was being held hostage by an evil monster. I turned on the hot water and watched the needles of water hit the marble of the shower wall as I waited for the water to heat up. When I saw steam I stepped under the showerhead and soaked my hair. I noticed that even my shampoo and conditioner had been placed in the shower with my body wash and soap.

For a moment, anger consumed me so suddenly and completely. The thought that River had been though my whole life, made me think very seriously about slamming my fist into the glass surrounding the shower. Then I remembered that would probably hurt me, so I decided against the notion. Instead, I concentrated on the shower. The water felt nice against my skin. I turned the hot water tap up to full so the water was scalding. The sharp needles stung and burnt, leaving my skin red and blotchy. But I liked it. The pain felt good. Numbing.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in the shower, but it was long enough for my fingers to wrinkle. I finally stepped out from under the water, into the steamed room and searched for a towel. There was one hanging on a rack near the door. I wrapped it around me and moved to the mirror. It took a moment for me to realise that, like everything else, this towel was mine, from my house.

Again, anger ripped through me, and anger I was completely surprised and unprepared for. It was just a towel, but the thought that River had been into my bathroom and touched everything, _everything_, sent angry pulses through me. And this time I did punch something. I slammed my fist into the marble wall without hesitation. Luckily I'd had enough sense to use my left hand, because as soon as I made contact with the wall, pain exploded through my hand. I cried out as I brought my hand back into me. I turned it carefully to inspect the damage. All the skin around my knuckles was broken and bleeding, but that wasn't the worst of it. The swelling of my middle knuckle was astounding. As was the pain. I was surprised that swelling could happen that fast.

With my right hand scrunched into a fist I took a breath through my teeth. I left the bathroom, still dripping, trying to find anything I could fix my hand with. In the end I used a pen and some cloth to act as a makeshift splint for my broken knuckle. I dressed as well as I could with one hand and throbbing pain, before leaving my room and trying to find the kitchen for some ice. I wandered around the halls of that stupid mansion for way too long, looking for any room that resembled a kitchen. I held my hand in front of me, trying desperately to ignore the aching hot pain that was radiating from my hand. It felt like the blood of the broken vessels was being boiled.

As I walked past one door, I heard my name.

"Giselle?" River inquired. I cringed, but backtracked anyway. I found the door he had called from and peeked my head in. It was obviously the library (the walls of books were a bit of a give away). Of course, it was all made of marble, shelves placed at even intervals all the way to the high ceiling with sliding ladders placed at intervals. The room itself was huge – almost as big as the ballroom – with intricate masonry on each shelf, extending to the roof. On the right hand wall were huge wall sized windows that had a beautiful view of the garden outside. There were several granite tables with mounds of books placed haphazardly on them.

River was standing near the back of the huge library, voice echoing of the white walls. His body was facing away but he had his head turned over his shoulder. I caught sight of the scaled eyebrows casting shadows over the marble blue eyes and my jaw clenched together. But I realised something. This wasn't out of fear or panic, this was out of anger. Hot blistering anger. His ashen skin marked with blue veins and calluses made me want to hurt him. It made me want to really hurt him. The pain in my hand disappeared as my hatred for River boiled within me.

"Yes," I answered, seething. River seemed surprised by the venom in my voice.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked.

"Let's just say I don't recommend marble to be used as a punching bag."

"You punched the wall?"

"No. The wall just got in the way of my fist. Please, can you tell me where the kitchen is?"

"Why do you need the kitchen?"

"Ice."

"I will help you," River answered, putting his book down and making his way to me.

"No." The spite in my voice was hatred vaporised. River stopped moving and stared at me. "Just tell me how to get to the kitchen."

"I can help you," River said, showing me his pointed teeth and black tongue, only reinforcing how much I didn't want his help.

"I don't need your help." I turned and left the doorway, quickly making my way away from River.

I finally managed to find the kitchen, but only after wandering around for over half an hour with no more anger to keep the pain from my mind. I moved straight to the freezer and found some ice. I unwound my makeshift bandage and put the ice, inside a tea towel, on my broken knuckle. I leant against a bench, closing my eyes and letting the coolness seep into my hand. When I opened my eyes again I noticed something sitting in the centre of a bench opposite me. There was a black hand brace sitting there, ready for me, with some pain killers. Again my teeth gritted in frustration and anger, but I kept myself from kicking something. Instead I threw the ice to the ground with my good hand, watching as it shattered on impact. Then I picked up the hand brace and slid my arm into it, securing the laces and Velcro that held it together. It restricted movement of my fingers and had supports along each knuckle and down the back of my hand. When I'd done that, hating myself for succumbing to River, I threw down two painkillers and made my way back to my room.

By the time I had actually found my room again, the painkillers had kicked in, making my hand feel numb and heavy. I checked the antique clock on my bedside table and sighed. It was only ten o'clock. I decided I needed to get out. Get out of this stupid house and away from that monster. All the fear and sadness had gone from yesterday and now I was only angry. Angry and frustrated. Frustrated that I couldn't get out of this place, and if I tried to fight, River would just kill Adam. I was going down without a fight, and I hated it. I tried to let it go.

What had River said about shopping? I needed to buy stuff for dinner. Brilliant. I'd never been a master chef, but I prided myself on being able to cook something other than scrambled eggs (like my brother). I felt that if I moved out I would actually be able to fend for myself. If my brother moved out I think he might starve simply because he couldn't turn on the oven. The thought of my brother made my eyes sting and my throat feel dry. Remembering the blank look on his face when he opened the door. I shut my eyes and took a few breaths. Yes, I definitely needed to get out.

Out of spite of River I decided to find something cheap, horrible and simple to make for dinner. He'd left some money on the small table beside the front door I was able to use. Going to the local supermarket hadn't been a problem – I'd been going there with Mum for years – I just hoped with all my heart I wouldn't see anyone I knew. It was winter holidays so I just prayed that none of my school friends would pass me by without a second glance. I couldn't deal with that.

I walked down the aisles with my head down, careful not to look at anyone for too long. I ended up finding the perfect thing for dinner. You know those 'count your calorie' meals that come in snap-off plastic microwave-able packs? Well, let's just say I found a whole aisle of them. And I bought enough to last the whole week. I knew they tasted awful – undercooked, dry and gluggy – and thought they would do well to tie over River for the week. I bought six different flavours: Italian Risotto, Creamy Pasta, Chinese stir-fry, Indian curry, Vietnamese noodles and Garden Vegetables. With those in my basket I also decided I needed real food for me to eat. I did a usual shop, as I would've with my mother. The burning in my lungs and stinging in my eyes I felt at the thought of my mother surprised me. My chest hurt and I struggled to breathe for a moment. It took a few minutes to get myself under control, and once I had, I continued buying things I needed, keeping all thoughts away from my family. Fruit, vegetables, some meat, breakfast food, some canned stuff, bread, milk, spreads, butter and other small things (including more painkillers).

When I got to the register and started putting everything on the belt, the cashier noticed my hand, and in the usual awkward cashier-customer conversation, asked,

"That looked like it hurt. How'd you do that?"

"Nothing spectacular," I shrugged as I handed her my cash. She counted out my change and dropped it in my palm, handing over the receipt. "Just punched a marble wall."

"Oh," the cashier said looking embarrassed. I collected my bags and walked away without looking back.

When I got home I dumped everything in the kitchen and began putting it all away. It was large (like everything else in the house) and looked more like a restaurant kitchen than a household one. The floor and walls were marble (surprise) with granite benches surrounding the edges of the room and two separate island benches in the centre. In random places in the benches, pieces had been cut out to put in a stove, oven, range hood, dishwasher, fridge and sinks. Under the centre benches were cupboards where all the plates, bowls and utensils were placed. Hanging from the roof were large pots, pans and what I thought to be oversized spoons and forks. There were a couple of knife blocks around the place too. They seemed so… dangerous. I'd handled knives before, sure, no problem. But I'd never been suicidal before. And being masochistic was dangerous. More dangerous for my family than for myself, I felt. I'd have to watch myself. I almost laughed aloud. I had to watch myself with knives. I felt like a child.

After eating something (I hadn't realised how hungry I was until I actually ate) I decided to try and find this garden River had talked about. I'd seen it from the library so I decided that heading in that direction might be a good start to find a back door. The only thing I didn't want, was to run into River. The library just happened to be very near the ballroom and I just happened to end up there, via one of the side doors. And I found the stairs that led to the balconies jutting out of the walls, no more than an extension of the marble and incredible stonework.

I took each stair slowly, looking out at the beautiful ballroom as I ascended. Each step changed the room. Changed the way the coloured shapes of the stain glass windows hit the floor. Changed the size of everything. Changed the position. I could imagine a grand ball happening. I could imagine the Victorian dresses and suits. I could imagine the upright stance and stiff dancing. I could imagine the music and voices. It stayed in my mind like a dream. I let it go and kept walking.

At the top of the balcony and pressed myself against the rail and fantasised about how easily it would be to fall. Just to lean over and keep going. I quickly backed away, breathing hard. I shook the morbid thoughts away. The balcony was as long at the wall with one end ending in the stairs and the other ending with chestnut double doors. I was immediately intrigued. Another balcony? I walked to the doors and opened them easily, showing me a beautiful view of the garden. I took a deep breath of the fresh air and let the cool wind and warm sun fall on my face. There was a small landing that led to stairs down to the garden. The only difference to these stairs was that instead of being marble they were made of black stone to match the outside of the house. At the bottom of the stairs was a stone paved path that wound around the other side of the stained glass windows, which sat near the ground (I'd been right about the ballroom being partially underground), and made its way to stairs that came from the balcony on the other side of the ballroom. The path met in the middle and turned away at a ninety-degree angle that lead to a garden that was breathtakingly spectacular. The path keep going in a straight line with huge elm trees on either side placed and even intervals. Every now and then there was another path the led off the side of the main one, working its way into the greenery of the garden. There were so many beautiful trees, plants and flowers within the garden that is was more of a maze or rainforest than a garden. I didn't doubt that it would be too easy to get lost within those trees.

I began to make my way down the path, only mildly surprised when the canopy blocked the sun. I kept walking, staring in awe at the beautiful trees or flowers and stopping every so often to sit on the stone benches placed randomly along the side of the path. I was beginning to think there was no end to the path when the light burst through and the rainforest of trees ended. Suddenly the path turned perpendicular and ran along either side in a straight line. There were stone benches with backs placed at constant gaps along the side of the path, facing out, looking at a grass field that ended with the black stonewall of the house's land. I frowned, unsure of what this was meant to be. There was obviously some sort of viewing, but there was no stage or sports field. Just a few hundred metres or so of grass and a stonewall.

I sat in one of the benches and tried to imagine what I could be watching. I stood and walked onto the grass. Maybe some sort of battle field for sparring or something. I kept walking and noticed something etched into the wall. Intrigued, I jogged up to the black stone. That was when I realised what this was used for. It was an archery field. Etched into the wall was an outline of a target. I assumed they'd hang something on the walls considering it is pretty hard to pierce stone (as I'd learnt this morning). I wondered if River was an archer. I thought how cool it would be to learn. Then I frowned and walked away, keeping my mind blank. Having use of a weapon might not be the best thing to do at the moment. Not with this unstable desire to kill River. And myself.

That's when I stopped. Could River die? It was plainly obvious that he was old – too old. Maybe he was immortal. Maybe I could… no. Hurting River would be a sure-fire way of him hurting my family. I walked back to the path, wandering slowly, unsure of the time. When I could see the house again, I took one of the paths that turned off into the mass of forest. Again, I was walking for a long time, this time the path winding, sometimes meeting up with other paths or winding around a water feature or stone figure. Eventually, the path ended with sunlight almost blinding me, and a view of the house. There was a creek. I was so surprised I actually smiled. Further up I could see more trees and more ends of paths sometimes leading into bridges over the creek. The creek led to a small waterfall and fell down to a pond that ended where I was standing. It wasn't overly flooded, but it was a long creek – longer than a kilometre. Some parts were deep, others shallow. On the other side of the river there was a grassy field with a few more paths, water features, sculptures, pretty shrubbery and flowers – but nothing like the small forest I had just walked through – with the house looming over it.

Though, there was something that did intrigue me. I followed the creek, careful not to slip on the rocks, and found the closest bridge, crossing it and following the path that lead to a large flat rock. I climbed it carefully and lay myself over it, looking at the sky, the sun, feeling its warmth run over me. I closed my eyes for a second before opening them again.

I caught movement out the corner of my eye as I turned my head. River was at a window watching me carefully. We made eye contact and he pursed his corpse-like lips together before turning away from the window so I could no longer see him. Anger overwhelmed me, leaving me breathing hard, jaw clenched and aching. I pushed myself up on my hands, forgetting about my broken knuckle until I felt the searing pain in my left hand, and felt something else beneath my right hand. I turned around, relieved to take the weight off my left hand and looked at what was beneath my right. It was a carving. I traced my fingers over it, reading the letters carved there.

Jocelyn

That was it. Just the name, Jocelyn, carved in beautiful script no bigger than my hand. I got off the rock quickly, feeling as if I were violating something, which seemed strange, even to me. But what if it were a gravestone of… one of the other maids. I shuddered and turned away, pushing the thought out of my mind.

Gravestones weren't something I needed to worry about. Not yet, anyway.


	6. Dreams

**5. Dreams**

When I got inside I realised just how cold it was outside. I went to my room to get a jumper and was astounded by the time. It was almost six and beginning to get dark. I figured it would take all of five minutes to make dinner so I decided to read. I'd always liked reading but hardly had the time. Now I had all the time in the world and not enough books to fill it. If there was anything I wanted, it was no time. Because time meant I could think. Thinking meant remembering and remembering meant pain.

I found my favourite book, deciding I hadn't read it in a while. It wasn't well known or a classic. Just a favourite. The black cover with simple design made it seem boring, the blurb even more so. But the content was so amazing and emotive it captured me ever time I read it.

After reading a few chapters, I went to the kitchen and heated up two of the dinners I'd bought. I put the food on a plate and carried them to the dinning room. I'd changed into some nice jeans and tight red shirt that I'd worn on my father's birthday at a flashy restaurant. I didn't reminisce. River was already sitting at the table in the same position he was in yesterday. I handed him his plate and sat down opposite him. My eyes swept past the scaled ridges over his endless blue eyes, the pale skin, deep blue veins, calluses, cat teeth and black tongue, instead finding the fairy sculptures on the mantle above the fire place. They were beautiful, each one hand crafted with such delicacy the sculptured looked as if they could, at any moment, turn their heads and fly away. Each fairy looked blissful and happy, some sitting, standing, lying or leaning. All unaware of their dreadful surroundings and horrible circumstances.

"How is your hand?" River asked as I pushed my chair in.

"Fine," I answered.

"When a woman says 'fine' I always seem to notice it is never a good thing."

"That's probably true," I muttered.

"I see your angry defiance did not get in the way of you taking the brace. That is good. Foolishness should not result in pain." He spoke so strangely. As if normal conversation was difficult for him. He didn't speak like… a human being. His words weren't conversational, they were… strict and formal.

"I just didn't see the need to suffer in order to prove a point you wouldn't get."

"That is probably true," River answered. I only slightly stunned by the dark look in his eyes.

I only nodded.

"I saw you in the garden today. Did you find it to your liking?" River picked at his plate.

"It was very pretty. Huge."

"Yes, it was designed that way."

"Who's Jocelyn?" I asked in a casual way, just to irritate him, and took a bite of my food.

River's head snapped up and he beared his teeth unconsciously. "No one of your concern. Do not ask questions to which the answers mean nothing to you."

"Why? Is she some other maid you killed off because it was convenient?" My words were angry; full of venom. "Another toy. Another worthless human for you to use and abuse." Before I knew what was really happening, in the blink of an eye River had managed to get out of his chair as well as pull me from my chair and push me up against the far wall holding me up by the neck. My back and head slammed against the marble, knocking the wind from me and disorienting me for a moment. River's cold blue eyes brought me back to the present as he bared his teeth and pushed his face close to mine.

"You know nothing of my life other than the tiny glimpse you have seen. You do not hold the right to judge me. You are nothing." River's voice held so much malice and bitterness the breath caught in my throat. His body was pressed against mine and all my brain could cope with was remembering to breathe. Even that was a task. The coolness that I had seen in River was gone. That casual manor had left him to be replaced by the truly cold-hearted monster he was. River dropped me, letting me fall to the ground, clutching at my throat. "I need you to run some errands for me tomorrow," River said indifferently, standing over me like a casting shadow. Then he turned and left, leaving me sitting on the floor of the dinning room, hyperventilating, tears streaking down my face, tyring to get air in my lungs but finding it incredibly difficult. My heart was beating too fast and sobs were coming from my chest at uneven intervals as I tried to breathe at the same time. My body was shaking and going into uncontrolled spasms as the fear and desperation overwhelmed me. Normally, I didn't panic, but this wasn't panic, this was total and utter terror, dread and a desolate feeling too terrifying for words.

In the middle of my breakdown, as I tried to get myself under control, I heard a soft footstep. Immediately my brain made my body recoil in fear of River. But when I looked up, it wasn't River.

It was Mix. The slightly plump figure and heart shaped face. It was Mix, my Mix. The short dark hair and freckles. The broad earth-shattering smile of a confidence no fat jokes could dispel. She stood over me – the whole four and half feet – looking at me with her don't-cry-it'll-be-all-right smile.

"Mix?" I asked.

"It's okay, Giselle," she soothed, sitting beside me and putting my head against her shoulder, stroking my back and hushing into my hair. The feel of her body against mine was so real I fell into the hallucination easily. I guess in the back of my mind I always knew it was a hallucination; I just didn't want to be reminded. The body and voice felt so good, I didn't want to recognise that Mix wasn't really there. In my mind, she was.

"I miss you, Mix," I whispered.

"Me too. But it's okay. It'll be okay. You just have to get out of here. You need to leave and run from River. Run as far and fast as you can."

"But he'll hurt Adam or you."

"No, he won't. Trust me. I'm your best friend. I always have been." Mix then stood, kissing my forehead and leaving the room.

I stayed sitting on the ground contemplating what Mix had said. To leave. To leave River and this house and this life. To be free. I stood, not really aware of what I was doing. I took a breath and walked out of the dining room. I walked down the main corridor, ignoring the paintings of previous maids, and into the lobby. From there I opened the front door, without hesitation, and walked away from the house and into the bitter air of the night.

As I walked over the steps I heard a voice, but it was neither Mix's nor River's. It sounded more like two stones being run over each other, but it said harshly, "Orion." I suppose I didn't acknowledge it – I was too caught up in hallucination and fear.

It wasn't until I had gotten deep into the trees of the driveway did I brain begin to piece together what I saw of Mix. Yes, it was her, but how did she know about River, and his name? How come he didn't do anything to stop her from entering the house? How come she remembered? I realised it was Mix, but it was a Mix I created. The Mix that told me everything I wanted to hear and how to achieve it. It wasn't real, and River would hurt my family if I tried to leave. Slowly, I turned and made my way back up the driveway to the house, dreading every footstep that brought me closer to the monster of children's nightmares. I passed the water fountain, the dragons guarding the stairs and went inside the house, to the lobby. As I shut the door behind me and sighed, leaning against the chestnut wood, a voice startled me.

"They always come back," River muttered, leaning against a side wall, looking too casual for the tone of voice he'd just used; cold, hard, resentful, indignant.

"Don't flatter yourself. They don't come back for you," I said, before brushing past him to go to my room. But as I left, I swear I heard River mutter under his breath,

"They never do."

That night was the night the nightmares began. My nights became something of horror movies. More often than not I would lie awake, trying to prolong sleep for as long as possible. The dreams killed me.

_Huge trees surround me, gnarled and black, they curl over me, stopping my escape. I run, my feet pound on the ground as my heart beats in my ears. The wind bites at me, pulls at my jacket and catches my hair, running the strands through its fingers. I don't know where I'm going but that doesn't matter. The path seems never ending. All I can see ahead is the darkness of the trees. Although, somewhere in the distance I know there are the wrought iron gates and a slightly chubby figure that waits behind them. I just know it. I run faster, dodging the fallen tree debris and various imperfections in the path. The balls of my feet are beginning to hurt and I can feel the beginnings of blisters on my toes. It seems to get darker and my eyes are straining to see._

_I keep running, trying to get away. My mind clicks. From what? What am I running from? This scares me even more than not knowing where I am running too. I am running to anything familiar. I am running from the unknown. I cry out, my body shakes and lurches with fear. I fall to my knees, tumbling forward; the wind helps me just a little. It rushes through the tunnel of trees and passes me like a car on a highway. The sound is deafening; the sound of a speed. The trees and branches creak and groan. I look behind me, then back in front. I've forgotten which way I've come from. It's all black. The wind seems to only have one direction: towards me from either side – all sides, all around me. I cry out again, fairly sure my words are incoherent. I try to stand but the wind and tree branches press down on me. What am I running from? Why don't I know? What is it? What is it? WHAT AM I RUNNING FROM? There is a gust of wind and I hear a loud crack just early enough to look up and watch the huge contorted black tree branch fall– _

I woke screaming into my pillow, clutching at the sheets, sweat pouring off me. I rolled over, my body still shaking, suddenly blinded by the small slit of sunlight that steamed through the tiny crack in my curtains – right onto my face – where I'd pulled them shut last night. I put my hands to my eyes, remembering that feeling from the dream – that fear and panic which was so unfamiliar to me. Sure, I couldn't panic in reality, but my dreams were limitless. Limitless and daunting. I sat, running a hand through my hair and taking a breath. The room was fairly dark still, with only the small slit of light, and gave it that day-time-darkness look. I shuddered. River said he wanted me to run errands today.

I got out of bed slowly and had a shower. I wanted to wash the nightmare away. I wanted to wash the nightmare off. Off my skin. Out of my head. It didn't work, and by the time I got out of the shower I felt no better than when I'd got in, except that the sweat I'd woken up in was gone. I pulled the sheets off my bed and threw them into a pile beside me. The dream clung to them, and I couldn't handle it. The dream clung to the whole room. I moved to the window and threw the curtains open all the way, letting the light spill into my room and take place of the nightmare's darkness. I left my room, taking my sheets and any dirty clothes I had, down the three flights of stairs to the bottom floor. I remembered River saying that the laundry was outside where the servant's quarters were. It made sense considering the servant's would've been the ones to wash all the clothes. River had told me the only reason the kitchen was inside was because the meals needed to be taken to the dining room so it made no sense for the kitchen to be outside.

I found my way out to the servant's quarters through the west wing. I'd sort of worked out the planning of the mansion, though only barely. The house was basically a big rectangle and the wings were four main areas inside the house. The left and right side were separated by the long corridor that led to the ballroom (the one with all the paintings hung up). In the centre of that corridor were two double doors that lead off left and right. They separated the wings. The two wings at the front of the house were the west wing (on the left side) and the south wing (on the right – I was forbidden to go there). The two wings at the back of the house, separated by the ballroom, were the north wing (on the left) and the east wing (on the right). tr

The east wing was where the kitchen was, on the first floor, with the dining room. The entire east wing was basically just corridors and corridors of rooms, sort of like a hotel, that I assumed would've been used when the owner of the house had guests. It was understandable my room was on the third floor. Though, it was definitely one of the nicer rooms. In fact, I hadn't yet seen any other room that had the same blue marble I had.

The library was in the north wing and spanned over the four stories (the room I'd walked in on the other day was only the first level, I hadn't noticed the stairs that led up) and basically covered the whole wing. The south wing was off limits to me, and it was natural I was curious as to what River may've been hiding, but I wasn't quite curious enough to look yet. Maybe some other time.

The west wing was full of what I thought to be random rooms and corridors but realised they were games rooms. Sort of. There were various sized drawing rooms, sitting rooms, sewing rooms, smoking rooms, and rooms with dartboards and card tables. On the fourth floor of the west wing there was also an armoury with old style weapons and body armour. I'd only just had a quick look at the west wing, but from what I'd seen I was fairly sure it was for entertainment purposes.

I found the door that lead to the servant's quarters and saw the contrast immediately. I stepped outside, into the cold winter breeze and had to follow a short gravel pathway, surrounded my short shrubs and a sea of green weeds and vines that snaked over the grass and to the side of the mansion walls. The servant's quarters were probably as big as my house would be, but only one story. It was made of the same black dense stone as the mansion, but it was nothing compared to the Manor. At the front of the quarters was one single wooden door, and a few windows splayed across the walls. I opened the door gingerly, and was met by a surprisingly clean house. It was obvious the last maid had kept the quarters nice. The room was fairly well lit from the light coming through the windows and it definitely had a homey feel about the place. In front of me was one large room. To the left were everything needed for washing clothing and linen, and to the right were everything needed for cleaning the inside and outside of the mansion. To the back were gardening and tools needed to do small handy man jobs around the house. On the far wall were two doors in each corner. I dumped my laundry on the ground and moved to the door in the left. Opening it I found a corridor that ran parallel to the room I'd just been in. There were five doors along the wall and as I turned the corner, I found another five, and as I turned another corner, I found another five, then found the door that led back into the workroom – the corridor led around the main room in a square shape. In each of the doors were dorm style rooms with four triple bunk beds (nailed to the walls) in each. In one of the rooms there was a kitchen, right next to the bathroom. Thinking about the lives the servants must've had to live made me a little sick.

I washed the clothes and bedding quickly, finding a clothesline outside and hanging everything up. It was as I was turning to take the washing basket back inside that I saw River leaning against the wall of the servant's quarters. I shivered at the sight. I also noticed how he stood in the shadow of the house, keeping out of the direct sunlight. He'd mentioned something about sunlight being a problem and it made me wonder. I thought of all the various fairy tales of the monsters that turned into animals or dust when they were hit with direct sunlight. Were they true?

Today he was wearing black jeans and a loose white v-neck t-shirt. The cold obviously didn't bother him. Once again he had the metal bands on his upper left arm and the long twisted sliver on his right forearm.

"I need you to run an errand," River said, once he'd caught my gaze.

"Yeah?" I muttered. His eyes narrowed, obviously not liking that he was being spoken to so informally. Good.

"Yes. These need to be delivered to a faery." He held out a few sheets of paper and some herb looking things.

"I thought fey didn't like you," I said casually, walking into the servant's quarters. I heard an impatient sigh. River also didn't like to be walked away from. Another small piece of info for my new data bank of all things that annoy River.

"They do not particularly like me, but they very much like my knowledge."

"Uh huh," I said, disinterestedly. I think I could almost hear the sound of River gritting his teeth. It made me smile. That is until I felt his cold fingers wrap around my right forearm, spinning me to face him.

"You need to go the closest park, Jasper Park, and find the trees that are entwined." His face was close to mine, making me hold my breath for some reason. But it was his tone that made me grit my teeth. The cold ice that radiated sick, sadistic confidence and dominance. Damn him.

"With that stuff?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes. Someone will come for you. Give him the items, then place one hand on your forehead." River took a step away from me, letting go of my arm and demonstrating. "Then your chest." His hand moved to just below his collarbone. "Then, hold your hand out in front of you, like this." Again he demonstrated. "He shall give you something in return. Then return directly home."

"Is that all?" I asked, reaching for the stuff he was holding. River frowned, creases appearing within his ridged eyebrows.

"You must be there at midday. In direct sunlight."

"Direst sunlight," I mused. "Is that why you can't do this? Direct sunlight."

"Something like that," River answered stiffly. "And whoever comes, will not look normal, but do not panic."

"Fine," I muttered, tempted to say something like, 'If I could panic would I be within two feet of you now?' But I held it back. I wondered if River could read minds. If he could change memories and all that, would he be able to read minds?

"Good," River said, sounding all but. He handed me the items and turned away, without a word, leaving the servant's quarters. This irritated me. He expected me to treat him like some sort of god, yet he treated me like I was some sort of scum. Some part of my brain acknowledged that that was possibly true, but I pushed it aside.

I stepped into the park hesitantly. River had just said to stand in direct sunlight where the trees were entwined. Well, gee, as if there weren't a million trees in this place. Jasper Park was a lot bigger than I'd first thought. And it had a whole lot more trees too. How was I supposed to find one with entwined branches? The park was set in a strange place, in the middle of suburbia, a square block that looked like it had been cut out of a Lord of the Rings film and stuck here, in the middle of my dead end town. But then, I wasn't really sure why I was surprised, wasn't I the one who trapped in a nightmare of huge mansions and creepy faeries.

The trees in the park were those large almost-pine trees with the straight trunks, various branches sprouting out the sides at sporadic intervals, tall as anything. They'd been planted in straight lines, and depending how you looked at it they could be diagonal, vertical or horizontal. Every now and then there was a small clearing and a bench. The strange thing about this park was that there wasn't a path. At all. Just the trees. It freaked me out a little.

And there also weren't any people. It was quiet and eerie, like it was some sort of sacred place. I hated it.

After wandering the ten-acre park and not finding the entwined trees I got frustrated. It was almost mid day and I truly wanted to hit something. Although with my already broken knuckle I got the feeling that might be a bad idea (yes, I'd learnt my lesson). I still had hot pain whenever the painkillers wore off. It wasn't unlikely that all the trees were intertwined anyway. But being planted so close together their roots would surely be entwined.

That's when it hit me. All I needed to find was a spot where direct sunlight hit the ground. Anywhere the tree's roots would be entwined so it probably wouldn't matter. Of course that could just be my mind wanting to find some sort of easy way out; and not bothering to look for the stupid entwined tree.

I found a clearing and stood in direct sunlight. Actually, I sat, my back leaning against a tree, because I couldn't be bothered standing. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sunlight on my face. That is, until that sunlight was blocked out. I opened my eyes, only to see nothing. I was suddenly in shade, but nothing was blocking the sun. I could see it. There weren't any clouds, just shade. Rather than panic or fear, I felt annoyance. _Damn fey_, was all I could think.

"Is there someone there?" I asked softly. A rustle of wind answered me. Did I mention how little I like the fey?

"We don't particularly like you all that much either," a voice answered. It was soft and boyish, with a teasing tone. Unlike River, it was obvious this faery used contractions. I wondered it that was simply a generation gap or something. "You are very observant," the voice said. Oh goodie. A mind reader. Perfect. As if I hadn't been violated enough.

"And yet I still can't see you," I answered tiredly. I stood. As I did, I felt the shadow over me move. It still covered most of my body, but it only covered half of my face. This worried me slightly.

"You only can't see me because you don't have the Sight."

"That means nothing to me," I sighed.

"Oh," the voice said, sounding confused. "Didn't River tell you?"

"You're the mind reader. Does it look like River told me?"

"I guess not," the voice said with a hint of laughter. "Your mind is confusing though. You don't have the Sight. That is obvious. But you seem fearless. No, that's wrong. You don't panic. Your mind acts very rationally. Logically. You think very clearly and are able to weigh up options before panic. Or push it aside altogether. Perhaps this isn't always a good thing."

"You think I didn't notice that," I answered bitterly. "So, are you going to tell me about the Sight?"

"I suppose. Only some humans have it, and they tend to be very disturbed individuals. Seeing fey all the time can really mess up someone's mind."

"So humans with the Sight are able to see faeries?"

"Yes," the voice answered. "Usually it means they've had some sort of faery blood in their history somewhere. But you, you're very clearly human. Nothing about you smells like faery. Well, apart from what I can smell of River.

"Then how come I can see River?" I asked.

There was a laugh. "Because he wasn't born one of the fey. No. No. He was born human."

"Did he trade his soul to the devil?" I muttered under my breath.

"Almost," the voice answered. I ignored that answer.

"Well, is there some way I could have the Sight? Or a way to see you?"

"Yes, but it hurts," the voice said.

"Why is that?"

"I must inject you with some fey blood. You need fey blood – magic blood – running through your veins to see fey."

"I think I'll pass," I said, holding out the package I held.

"Oh no," the voice said. "River requested me to do this."

"Do what exactly?" I frowned. That was when I felt the jab of something in my neck. I tried to move, but found that I couldn't. I really, really hated faeries.

Then my thought process stopped. It stopped because pain took over. Starting from the place where I felt the needle jabbed into me, a fire spread through my veins. This wasn't right. It wasn't. This blood was wrong. And my body didn't want it. It rejected it. I could feel it burn under my skin as it spread throughout my body. My muscles tensed and I fell to the ground. I could feel the blood being pumped by my heart. To my lungs and brain. It was taking over. I thought I felt the blood vessels in my eyes burst as my vision became cloudy. This was wrong. I began to shake. Spasm. The pain. It wouldn't stop. I was going to die.

I was going to die.


	7. Strangers

**6. Strangers**

Then the pain stopped and my vision cleared. I was still in the park. Only this time, it looked different. What I hadn't been able to see before, I could now. In front of me was a short boy (I say boy because he sure didn't look like a man) with the remainder of a syringe in his hand. He'd almost look normal if it weren't for the soft gold tinge in his skin. Oh, and the large wings protruding from his back. They looked like crepe paper, but as they flapped effortlessly behind his back it was obvious they were very powerful. He had soft pixie-like facial features, with slightly pointed ears and upturned eyes. He couldn't have looked anymore than fifteen or sixteen, but there was something behind his eyes that made him seem older. He wore a simple pair of shorts (not something a human would wear) that were so exquisitely made; it was surprising they were so simple. His chest was bare, showing off the muscles that stretched across his stomach and back. He had deep silver tattoos all over his body, looking like mercury had been injected into his skin, shimmering and shinning in indistinguishable Celtic patterns. He was covered in a transparent film of what looked like an invisible plastic.

The pain was completely gone and I found I could stand up again. My hand seemed to have healed, my knuckle no longer bruised and broken. It was very strange. I had dropped River's package, but at that moment I couldn't care less. I was seeing more than any normal mortal human should see. Because the thing was, the park, Jasper Park, was more than just a park. The trees I'd seen with my human sight were gone. And now all I could see was curled, gnarled, living, thriving trees that fell about the park. They swayed and talked, moaning with the wind. Mostly they were green with beautiful flowers coming off the leaves. They looked alive. In fact, for some reason, I got the feeling they were.

Everywhere in the park was evidence of fey life. Anything remotely human was gone. There was no trace of anything unnatural at all. Not metal, especially not iron. Flowers and water were in abundance with small animals that didn't belong in a mortal world. But the thing was, it wasn't sweet and gold and harmonious, as would be expected from a fairy tale. Even though everything was alive and growing, there was some sort of sinister undertone. Something cold and evil about it all. Dark. To the fey, magic must be natural, but it didn't seem to fit within this world. This earth. It didn't seem natural or safe or good. It seemed sly and wicked. Almost immoral. As if it were some sort of sin. Some sort of evil temptation.

Anger swept through my body quickly.

"I am Kial, from the Natsu Court," the faery said to me with a grin. I decided I despised him for showing me this stupid world.

"What are you? Some sort of pixie?" I spat.

"Actually, yes," the pixie smirked.

"What is this?" I asked, pointing to the newly discovered fairy tale within suburbia.

"This is real," he said simply.

"So what was I seeing before?"

"A glamour."

"A glamour?"

"Yes, an illusion. We fey are very good at glamours." The pixie grinned and did a small hop on is feet, his wings lifting him off the ground for a moment. He hovered, then lowered back down to earth. "The outside of River's mansion is a glamour. Just wait till you go back and see it for real." The pixie giggled and hopped again. I assumed that was what the transparent film was – a glamour.

"Can I give you your stuff now?" I asked. I picked up the package again and handed it to the dancing pixie. He smiled and took it from my hand lightly.

"I think I like you Giselle. Grace was much too scared to ever play with the fey," Kial told me. Grace. The previous maid.

"I don't intend to play, thanks," I said.

"But you already are," Kial grinned, without any more explanation and a soft tinkling laugh. I ignored it. I remembered what River had said to me and I placed my hand on my forehead, then chest, then in front of me. Kial grinned even wider. He reached into the pocket of his shorts and plucked out a small parcel.

"Thanks," I said out of habit.

"Don't open it till you are out of the park. It doesn't do well for the fey."

"Is it iron?" I asked.

Kial shook his head. "But it is a metal. For you. River requested it."

I nodded, slowly. "What's the Natsu Court?"

"It is the court of fey in this territory. We have a queen."

"Are there other courts?"

"Oh, yes. The Aki Court, Haru Court and Fuyu Court."

"Oh." I nodded again. "And they have their own territory?"

"Of course."

"Where are they?"

"Well, the Fuyu Court is in the city of steel. Very strong fey there. Haru Court is in the east. Many ocean fey. And Aki Court is in the west."

"I see." Again, nodding. "Am I going to get sick?" I asked. Kial looked at me as if it were a strange question. "You injected foreign blood into me. Generally, unless it's from the same species and blood type it can be a problem," I explained.

"Faery blood is magic," Kial said simply. Then he turned, flicking his wings, and skipping away. I heard him hum a song, which I could've sworn was familiar, but couldn't pick it.

Slowly, I backtracked my way out of the park, hoping that I wouldn't run into more faeries.

It was as I was following the path that I caught sight of a fly. Only, I had a feeling it wasn't a normal fly. It was glowing. And sightly bigger. Maybe the size of my fist. A sprite. It was following me. I paused, and waiting. The glowing thing caught up to me, whistling softly. It stopped and settled on a branch of a tree beside my head. I turned to look at the creature.

"Are you owned?" it asked me in one of the highest voices I've ever heard.

"I don't understand," I answered. The thing wasn't quite human looking, although it did seem to have all those features. No, that's not true. It had a long body, but its legs weren't human. They were thin and wiry, the feet clawed. The body was skeletal, and looked as if the skin had been stretched over the bones in order to fit. It's arms extended out into two leathery black wings, delicate and membranous. The head was small and rounded, with sharp canine teeth pointing over the bottom lip. It looked like a bat. A tiny, minuscule bat with human features.

"Who knows your name?" it asked. I wasn't entirely sure of the gender.

"Many people," I answered, still confused.

The bat frowned and shook its head. "Are you River's? It is true? Are you the new one?"

"Um… I guess so."

The little bat clapped the end of its wings – I guess its hands – together in excitement. "Will you play with me?"

"No. No, thank you. I must go home," I informed the sprite.

"I am Enda," it told me.

"Giselle," I replied.

"Giselle Belle," Enda sang, making a tune out of the rhymed words. "Giselle Belle. Giselle Belle. Giselle Belle."

"No. Just Giselle." I wasn't fond of the name Giselle Belle. Johnny had been the only person to ever use it. The exact reason as to why I didn't like it.

"Just Belle?"

"No. Just Giselle."

"Fine," the faery huffed. I turned and began to move away. "Wait!" Enda squealed. She flew after me, zipping beside my ear and landing on my shoulder. I was startled for a moment, as I felt her claws catch my jumper, but relaxed quickly. I kept walking. "Will you play?"

"I can't."

"Can I come home?"

"With me?"

"Yes," Enda nodded, lifting her shoulders, smiling and clapping again. I could feel the breeze from her wings on my neck.

"And River?"

"I…" Enda paused, looking at me. "River? You live with River?"

"Of course."

Enda leaned over and pressed her small hands on my cheek, whispering in my ear, "Does he hurt you?"

"I suppose," I answered, stopping myself from shrugging before I threw Enda off my shoulder.

"Does he scare you?" she continued, whispering.

"Yes. Does he scare you?"

Enda looked over he shoulder then back to me. "Yes," she said softly, nodding. "He's not born of fey blood. But now he's no longer of human blood. He's not natural."

I pondered this comment for a minute. I'd reached the end of the park and was ready to leave. Enda flittered off my shoulder, her soft glow illuminating the air around her.

"Will I see you again?" she asked me, hovering over the border of the park and the road.

"I suppose. Maybe," I shrugged. Again, Enda looked over her shoulder before flitting over to my face. She touched my nose softly, closed her tiny eyes and mouthed some words.

"To watch over you. To stop River. For dreaming," she said to me. "You are very beautiful."

I didn't answer.

"I give you my luck," Enda said. I nodded and quickly turned, crossing the road. When I turned again, I guess I expected the park to go back to the normal human view I'd seen on my way. It didn't. Instead, everything around it seemed different too. Signs of faery life were everywhere. Everything was glazed over. Sharper, more defined, but also sort of blurred. Sinister. Cold.

The wind blew some of my hair over my eyes, sending a chill down my neck. I shivered, pulling my jumper around me. Then I remember the package that was in my hand. I studied it. The packaging wasn't paper, but the skeletal membrane of dried out leaves, crusted and coloured. I undid the ribbon that held it together and watched as the wrapping flew away in the wind. Finally, there was a soft gold charm sitting in my palm, a gold chain dangling from it.

The charm was small, no bigger than a fingernail, and made of soft, bright gold. It seemed to glow. The charm itself was a small design of many gold wires twisted in together to form a Celtic-like pattern. The chain was a simple gold strand made of small links. I wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. Put it on? Or not?

I dropped it into my pocket. I'd ask River later. 

On the way home it was cold and I was hungry. I was also very freaked out by just how much fey life was around. It startled me. I saw things that really scared me. Tall faeries with long silver hair that floated around their heads like they were in water. Tiny little faeries that hunched and muttered, stumbling below human's feet. Children-like faeries with tiny devil wings and horns. I assumed they were all from the Natsu Court, but I couldn't be sure. I ignored them mostly, hoping they wouldn't notice I could see them. Did they somehow know I now had the Sight? Or was I safe if I ignored them?

I passed a bakery, and walked in, glad for the warmth and lack of faery creatures. With River's money I bought myself a cheese roll. As I was paying, the door opened behind me, and I heard a very familiar voice. It was deep and husky with a light laugh in everything he said. Tom. He was one of the many sleazy boyfriends I'd picked up from school but never kept very long. The girl at the counter handed over the paper bag my roll was in and I took it carefully, trying not to draw attention to myself, which I knew was stupid since I doubted Tom would even remember me. But surely… could River have got to everyone I knew. That's a pretty big task.

Maybe, just maybe.

I turned, catching Tom's gaze. He stopped for a moment and looked at me carefully. If there was ever an example of tall, dark and handsome, Tom was it. With deep, dark, chestnut hair, beautiful golden skin and a sly smile always plastered on his face, he'd always been a lady's man. He was with two of his other friends I barely remembered, apart from the leers I'd gotten from them – similar to the ones I was getting now. Tom gave me his lopsided smile, which always meant he had something planned, and walked, without much hesitation, towards me.

"Do I know you?" he asked me. This was an obvious pick up line that I was obviously meant to respond by saying 'no', and he'd say something corny like, 'would you like to?'

"Technically you do, but your memories have been removed by a friend of mine so you don't remember me."

"Well, I haven't heard that one before," Tom laughed. I smiled. "Who are you? I haven't seen you around before."

"Giselle. I live near the mansion," I told him.

"You go to school? I haven't seen you there." Tom moved a little closer to me.

"I'm new to the neighbourhood. My family just wants to get settled before we begin schooling," I told him, proud of my own lie.

"Well, maybe we could," Tom shrugged, "catch up some time."

"Sure." I paused. "How about now?"

Tom grinned. "Now?"

"Why not?"

"Sounds good," Tom answered. I smiled and grabbed his hand, pulling him away. I looked back at his face. He wore an expression of excitement and mischief. His friends began to follow, but he shooed them away.

I had a feeling I was only doing this to spite River, but I wanted it anyway.

"Where should we go?" Tom asked.

"Anywhere you want," I flirted. "Take me away." I did a twirl.

Tom grinned. "I know just the place."

We followed an old bike trail, which was slightly overgrown, to a small creek. We followed that down to an old willow tree. The long, stringy branches swayed softly with the cool wind, as if it were trying to say something. It flopped over the side of the creek, blocking out the sun, and giving an almost hidden away feel; even if I could hear the cars driving past in the nearest street. I was surprised I couldn't see any fey. I would've thought this would be a great fey hide out. Apparently I'd been wrong. Maybe it was the boundary of some territory.

"This is beautiful," I said to Tom, generally amazed. "Why didn't you ever take me here whe-" I stopped myself a little too late. Why did I keep living life as if nothing had changed? Why couldn't I just remember that I wasn't what I was before? That I never could be? Ever again?

"What?" Tom asked me, turning so he was facing me. The tree trunk was behind me; I was almost leaning against it. I felt a little cornered.

"I was just… thinking of something else. Sorry."

Tom shrugged. "Happens to the best of us." He grinned, leaning forward. God, he was so cocky.

I backed up, slightly. My heel hit the side of the tree trunk, making a scratchy sound.

"You're not… attached, to anyone, are you?" Tom asked me, pressing one arm on the tree, near my shoulder, so his face was much closer to mine.

"Well…" Yes. Absolutely. "Sort of."

"That's why you're nervous?"

"Yeah. A little."

"Hey," Tom smiled soothingly. "Don't worry." He ran his free hand over my cheek. "It's okay. You're beautiful, Giselle." He said it as if that were a solution to everything. Then he leant in, slowly, waiting, watching my reaction. I did nothing except breathe. Then, his lips brushed over mine softly. Not quite a kiss, but certainly a hint. He pulled back, looking into my eyes again. He was good at this. And right now, I was enjoying it. Just being with someone real for a while. And being wanted as any normal girl should be. "I could've sworn…" Tom didn't finish his sentence. Instead he brushed his lips over mine again. His face hovered millimetres away from my lips. "You were familiar." Then he kissed me. For real. And it felt good. There was no denying that. He may have been sleazy, but I didn't care. This was what I wanted. I closed my eyes as his hands held me. His arms pulled me into his body. It felt nice. Like he was there for me. His lips moved from my lips, over my chin and to my neck. My hands were in his hair, my eyes still closed, until I felt movement. Or maybe I sensed it. I wasn't sure. But I knew something was there. Something other than us. I opened my eyes slowly. I felt my body stiffen. "Is something wrong?" Tom asked, removing his lips from my neck for a second.

"No. Nothing. I just thought I heard something."

"I can stop…"

"No. Don't. Please."

He complied with my request and kept kissing me. That didn't change the fact that there were three faeries watching us, and small sprites hovering around our close bodies. The sprites were whispering and giggling, giving off small lights and sometimes touching Tom. He didn't notice it or feel it. The other three faeries were sitting beside the creek bed, just watching, putting their hands and feet in the tinkling water. They were all covered in a transparent film, like cling wrap, or spider web, which I assumed was their glamour so they were unseen. Just like Kial.

"Could we play with them?" one of the faeries asked another. It was a female, too pretty for words. She didn't have wings, but neither did the other two. She had hair that looked like it was made of leaves and branches, her skin the same colour and texture of bark.

"They _are_ very pretty," one of the male faeries said, as if it were justification. He looked like water in human form. His hair were droplets in the wind, his eyes cool black stone. "And so full of desire. I feel it from him"

Tom had come back up to my lips, kissing me harder. I would've closed my eyes, if I weren't terrified of the faeries behind us.

"The girl is in misery. She will be mine." This male faerie was tall and willowy. He looked like a shadow was following him; or he was the shadow. His skin was the colour of the night sky, and his eyes pale moons. His voice sounded like the last breath of a dying war hero.

"Tom," I said, pulling away from him. He looked startled. "I need to go. I'm sorry."

"Oh." He looked disappointed. "Will I see you again?"

I began to walk away, pulling Tom with me. We had to get away from that willow tree. It was too dangerous. I needed a main road. The fey wouldn't come near cars.

"I… maybe. At school. I'm not sure. But I really have to go." We reached a small side street. It was enough. I turned to face Tom. He'd been a release for a short time. And I thanked him for that. I gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "Thanks."

He nodded, looking solum. "Anytime."

Making my way back to the mansion I realised just how tired I was. I checked my watch, surprised at how late it was. I needed to hurry or I'd miss dinner.

Before I actually reached the mansion, I realised that what I'd seen before was a glamour. The dark gothic look I'd loved was no longer there. Now I saw the house for what it really was. A marble palace. From another time. Another side of the world. It was so beautiful it hurt. The trees and the driveway and fountain and dragons were still there, just so much more beautiful than before. So clean and exquisite.

Walking up the pathway I marvelled at how beautiful the house was. Each window was the stained glass I loved, and each as perfectly delicate as the rose in the ballroom.

The mansion was also covered in the transparent spider web film that had been covering all the fey I'd seen today. Now I was certain that was the glamour. It was the illusion that made something look like it wasn't. It irritated me. That the beauty was hidden. And that everyone was deceived. I wasn't sure which was more annoying. Which was contradictory in itself.

Again as I walked over the steps to the front door I swear I heard that same voice I'd heard when I hallucinating Mix. Well, it wasn't exactly the same, but it was similar. "Onyx," it said. I spun, searching for the source. But there were only the stone dragons and the fountain. I brushed it away.

I'd hardly got into the foyer before River was on me.

"What took you so long? You are very late."

"Well. A lot of things actually. Things you should have told me about."

"What? What did Kial do to you?" River seemed concerned. Maybe I was going crazy.

"He injected blood into me. It felt like I was burning," I told River, the resentment obvious, and painful.

"Magic begins with blood," River stated simply, all concern washed away.

"Will other fey know? That I have the Sight, I mean."

"Not unless you tell them."

I paused. River waited. "Why did you do it?"

"You deserve to see the real world. The world for what it is."

"But I liked seeing the world for what it wasn't. I was happy with that."

"Yes." River nodded. "Most humans are."

"And the necklace?"

"It is… for protection."

"And I should wear it?" I asked, pulling it out of my pocket. River moved forward, taking the chain from my hand. He reached behind me, leaning in, bringing the necklace ends around my neck, and catching my hair. His face moved over mine, his eyes holding my gaze. River seemed to take forever to link the catch together, the tips of his fingers brushing my skin. He paused, running his fingers over the cool chain, tickling my skin. I shivered.

"Yes. You should wear it. It will stop fey from hurting you."

"How?"

"Because they know you are mine. Part of the Natsu court, and cannot be harmed." Then, I hated it. I didn't want to be branded as River's. As part of the fey world.

There was a frown on River's face. Confusion. "Perhaps there is something you would like to tell me."

Obviously. I just wasn't sure what it was. "Um… is there?" I asked, generally not understanding what he was talking about.

"A boy, perhaps?" River's eyes were calculating. Cold.

"Um…"

"Do not lie, Giselle. I can smell him on your breath." River looked disgusted. "He smells of desire, need and sex. It is repulsive."

"What would that matter?" I tried to sound breezy. I stepped back, turning away.

"This boy is looking for nothing more than your body, Giselle."

"Well, isn't that all I can have?" I shouted at him. "It isn't as if I can have a real relationship. Ever." There was finality in my tone. I still wasn't facing River.

He was silent. Then, "No woman should be treated that way. It is vile."

"Right," I scoffed. "Because _you_ are the perfect example of how to treat women."

River grabbed me and spun me to face him. "You know nothing of what I have been through."

I laughed. I actually laughed. "Well, sorry River, but you are getting no sympathy from me. You don't deserve anything from me."

River let go of me, heavily. I fell away from him. His next words were said with so much conviction I felt them burn. Brand me. "And yet, I have everything from you." Then River turned away and walked out of the room. He disappeared into the shadows and I slumped to the floor.

"Not everything," I whispered.

Then a reply. My blood froze. "Not yet."

I think the fear inside me blocked out all conscious thought, and I lost all bearings. I could feel cold, and wind. But I saw nothing more that a black tunnel. I was walking. My feet had blisters. My hair was annoying me, flicking into my face. But other than that, I lost an hour or so of my life. I guess I must have just walked. Walked away from the mansion. When I finally woke from my strange daze, I was down a main road in the town. To my right were a whole lot of gift shops with little trinkets and pathetic ornaments. I saw one of a fairy and wanted to scream at the world. Real faeries weren't pretty or cute or sweet or magical. They were evil. Humans were toys. My anger made me shake.

I remembered when as a kid; Adam and I would sometimes catch butterflies that sat on the daisies beside the front window of our house. We'd put them in a small glass jar or plastic Tupperware container. Usually we'd watch them till they died, then get upset, throw them back into the garden and wait for some more. That's what this was. Except humans were the butterflies and the faeries were the ones who'd watch us until we died, for their amusement, then find some more.

To my left was a big supermarket. It was the only thing open at that time of night. The lighting was bright and false. Still, I was cold and thirsty. I found a few dollars in my pocket and decided to buy some juice. My throat was killing me. I wondered if I'd been crying.

Inside the supermarket, it was warmer. Still cold, but warmer than outside. I walked around for a bit, just wandering, looking at how everything was so normal. It seemed so weird. No faery trace was in here. I wondered if it was because of the iron or steel.

I reached up for something on a top shelf, but just as I did, something caught my eye. The blue sweater I had bought my mother from Christmas last year. I turned slowly. It was her. She was walking slowly down the isle pushing a trolley. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I took a deep breath, with one hope. One small hope. My mother turned, our eyes locked. She gave a look of confusion and walked to me. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. She did remember me.

I smiled as my mother said, "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude."

And my heart fell out of me. That was the tone she used with strangers. I knew it. I looked at the woman who once was my mother. Always shorter than me with a broad smile and laugh lines. The mother who gave birth to me. Raised me. Listened to me cry, laugh, and yell. I looked at her and everything in me shut down. I was vacant.

"Would you mind reaching that tin for me. I've always been short. I should get my son to come shopping with me," she laughed. "At least he can reach the top shelf." And that used to be me. I was the one who reached the top shelf for her. I guess, in a way, I still was.

Except this time I was a stranger, not her daughter.


	8. The Cross

**7. The Cross**

That night was the first time I dreamt of my mother. It became a series of reoccurring dreams. It wasn't as scary as it was chilling. It hurt me more than anything I had ever remembered. It was almost as if my brain was trying to bring up memories that would kill me. My whole subconscious was against me. That didn't even make any sense. Why would I want to hurt myself? Destroy what was left of my fragile mind. I fell asleep shaking.

_My mother opens the door, her face registers nothing. I miss her. I miss her so much. I need her to remember. Why can't she remember? I'm her daughter. _

"_Can I help you?" she asks kindly. _

"_Why don't you remember me?" The anger in my voice surprises me. _

"_Excuse me?"_

"_Why don't you remember me?" I repeat. "Why don't you remember me? Why don't you remember me? Why don't you remember me? Why don't you remember me? Why don't you remember me?" I know I sound like a mad woman, but I can't stop. "Why don't you remember me? Why don't you remember me? Why don't you remember me? WHY DON'T YOU REMEMBER ME?"_

I was shaking when I woke; my whole body shuddering. I pulled the covers around me tighter, trying to stop the trembling, the way my body moved involuntary. My eyes were stinging and my lungs burning – as they usually did whenever I thought about my family or Mix.

It was still dark outside so I checked my clock. 3 a.m. But I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to close my eyes again and see the blank look on my mother's face. I just couldn't. I guess I'd been teaching myself to slowly block out all thoughts of my family. To keep them distant, but not gone.

I got out of bed, throwing on a dressing gown and some socks to keep my footsteps quiet. I walked to the only place in the house that I didn't feel trapped. The ballroom. But as I got closer I began to hear noise. The noise became music, and then it became a piano melody. I walked to one of the side doors a peeked through the crack. Light filtered through, but it was dim. I saw River's form, sitting straight backed at the piano, his finger's moving across the keys so elegantly it was as if they were being blown by wind.

The melody was deep and soulful and haunting. I leant my back against the door and slid down till I was sitting, thighs against my chest, head resting on my knees. I closed my eyes and just listened. I let myself get lost. At times the song would feel so mournful, it made me shudder. I felt as if I was listening to a story. One of loss and misery. One of someone trapped and regretful. For so long I just listened to River play. I didn't get bored. I only felt tired and somber. It calmed me, and finally, when I was able to tear myself away from the music, I stood, ready to go back to sleep.

It was only as the music stopped, I woke up. I suddenly felt alert and aware. The door opened behind me and I spun quickly. River was standing at the door, one hand still on the doorknob, as if he were leaving it open for an invisible guest.

"What are you doing here, Giselle?" he asked. His chest was bare, white veins all the more obvious, and he only wore some loose shorts, as if the cold didn't bother him at all.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Are you sick?"

"No. I just had a dream."

"A nightmare?"

"I guess you could say that."

"I could brew you something. A tea. It will help you sleep."

"No. Thank you. You could do with some though."

"No. I don't sleep much. I prefer to compose when it is dark."

A silence followed. "I'll go back to sleep. Sorry."

"I can escort you?" His sudden kindness scared me.

"No. Thank you. I can walk by myself." I began to turn away.

Then, "You are wearing the necklace. Do you like it?" I looked at River over my shoulder, touching the pendant.

"It's pretty. Unique. Thank you."

I had meant to take it off, but when I saw myself in the mirror, I just didn't want to. It was too pretty. So much nicer than anything I'd ever owned. And I wanted something pretty in my life.

River nodded, not saying anything more. I left, walking a little too fast.

The days passed in a ritual for me. I did many things for River. Messenger work, delivery work, cleaning, cooking, shopping, listening to him talk or giving him advice. But one thing remained constant. Dinner. Every night I would sit with River and eat dinner. We never had much to talk about so he would usually tell me about his day or what he had read or some new and interesting thing he had learnt. Then I would tell him what I did. We never laughed or joked or smiled. Sarcasm had become a thing of the past. So had many of my usual emotions. I was blank. Cold. Empty.

My life no longer passed by in any sort of order, like it does for most people. School, friends, family etc. When you live your life normally every moment is important. Now, my life only happened in snippets. One pretty, blissful moment in a million. A beautiful flower in the garden that made me smile. A sunset that made me cry. A scene in a book that made me blissfully happy.

That was how my life was defined now. It was depressing and I never liked to dwell on it. Dwelling wasn't healthy. My mind became so messed up. I forced myself to think about many things at once, but I would never think about one thing for long. It was sort of like channel surfing. Flicking through many thoughts at the same time, but only skimming over one for an instant. I trained myself that way. Don't think about something for too long and you don't get hurt. Most of the time it worked. Other times my mind drifted too far to pull it back. But most of the time I kept my head full of pathetic useless thoughts. Away from any memories. I liked it that way. Like I said, dwelling isn't healthy.

I began to realise, I was facing the same fate as my name implied. Of the ballerina Giselle. Not the loving of someone who was already committed, but the fact that I would have gone mad and died before the first act of my life was over. If not physically dead, then certainly mentally. I was a real life Giselle. Hopelessly lost, yet still clinging to any piece of the old life she remembered. Even if she knew it wouldn't last. Even if she knew it would only hurt more later.

It was one day I was in the corridor, which led to the ballroom, that I noticed something. The paintings River had done, the ones that looked as if they'd been painted through water, with the maids. They were looking at something. Some thing from my window. Something I needed to see. I looked at the other paintings that had the same water quality, and saw many landscapes. It didn't help.

I went back to my room, having memorised the position the maids were standing in. I shut the door behind me and walked to the window. I carefully took small steps, till I was in the same position I knew all the maids had been when their portrait had been painted. I had never done that before, for fear of becoming them. But I knew I already was. I was a ghost. I searched the new landscape I could see from my new perspective, and gasped. As usual, I could see the garden and land the house was situated on, surrounded by the stonewall that enclosed it. Around it were some sporadic clusters of trees and housing developments. In the far distance were the remnants of a sprawling forest that had no doubt been destroyed by the increase of human population.

But what stood out above the trees and houses, calling out like a beacon, was a cross. A large stone cross that was sitting above a church, many miles away. Something that would stand the test of time. Something that all the maids would see. A tradition. An unspoken tradition. I had never been religious, but the moment I saw that cross, my heart swelled. This moment, I had shared with so many other maids. I could feel them with me. In the room. They were the ghosts that Giselle, the ballerina, had joined. They were the ghosts she had stopped from killing her love. They were her soul mates, her friends. They were all that she had left in life. I was a ghost. The ghost of Giselle. A fate that would last eternity.

There was one dream – nightmare – that was the most horrifying and evoked more dread, fear and panic than I thought I could feel. My mind had finally filled in all those blanks I had forced myself not to think about. That evil possibility. River.

_My eyes open slowly to the dim light. I see the blue marble around me and feel the warm blankets and relax. I am in my room now. I am safe now. There is a click at the door and I turn my head. River. His white skin is luminous in the dark room, veins snaking up his arms and neck. The callused, ridged flesh takes my breath away. His pasty chest is bare; he is only wearing loose shorts, shorts I saw Kiel wear. My muscles clench as he moves towards my bed. I begin to sit up, but River puts a hand on my chest and says,_

"_Don't move, my dear Giselle." His bright blue eyes shine like planets in the darkness. River leans over me and places a soft kiss on my forehead with his deathly lips. I shudder under his touch but River doesn't notice. He then slips under the covers of my bed and moves close to me. _

_I shrink away from him, unsure of what he is doing. He makes it very clear when he rolls over me, kissing my neck and whispering in my ear. I try to open my mouth to scream but it is covered by River's, his tongue swallowing up any protests. I struggle against his heavy body, trying to wriggle out from underneath him. River only pins my arms down by my side and pushes his hips on to mine with too much force. I try to scream or yell out. I try to fight back, but River is relentless. His mouth only more urgent every time I try to shout. _

_I try again and again to kick and hit River, but the force of his body on mine is too strong, his muscular arms restraining me. His grip on me hurts, fingers digging into me, giving me bruises. My eyes are swimming with tears, only the sound of my choked sobs and River's ragged breaths reach my ears. I become desperate, thrashing like a fish trying to escape a net. River lets me finish my little rant before pushing me down again. _

_I am tired. So tired of fighting him. I give on last attempt to get River off me. I hear a deep throaty growl from River's throat and immediately I am frozen in fear. As soon as I stop moving River relaxes, although he is still clutching me tightly. As River's fingers run over my body, loud sobs ripple through me. I close my eyes and try not to think of the monster that is on top of me. I am so tired. River's hands disappear from my skin, and I think it was over. I think he will get up and leave the room. Leave my dream. He doesn't. He is only just beginning. _

_I look up at River, pleading for him to stop. My breathing is uneven, coming out in heaves with tears and shudders. _

_River doesn't even see me. His eyes ware alive with adrenalin and his face looks determined. _

_I try to scream out in fear, but River's mouth comes down on mine, stopping me from crying out from the torture. I only retract any part of me that is still human and try to ignore everything. I cry and cry, sobs breaking out of my chest in waves, making me shake and convulse. _

_Finally, River moves away from me. He seems irritated I'm still crying. I can do nothing but curl up into a ball, trying to stop the tears, forget the pain and quiver with fear. _

"_Good girl, my dear Giselle," River chides. He touches my shoulder and I jump away from him, still not turning to face him. I hear River sigh behind me. The bed sways as he gets up. "You will learn," River says. "You will learn to enjoy it." Never. I shudder thinking about it. Never. _

I woke up trying to get air into my lungs, taking huge gasping breaths, my vision swimming in front of me. My throat ached from shouting in my sleep and my jaw hurt from clenching and unclenching it throughout the night. The thought of River touching me scared me enough, but the thought that I might enjoy it scared me even more. Never. Never.

"Giselle?" I heard River's voice question as I walked past the library one day.

"Yes?" I asked, peeking my head in the door. He had his nose buried in a book and ushered me forward with one hand. I walked slowly, hoping to irritate him. As usual, he was as patient as ever.

"I need you to buy a book for me," he said, still not looking at me.

"You don't have enough?" I asked innocently. River lifted his head, watching my face, not sure if I was joking or not.

"I have heard a lot about one book and was wondering if you had heard of it?"

"Yeah?"

"It is called Harry Potter. Apparently it is about some sort of boy wizard–" I cut him off with my laughter.

"Everyone in the world knows who Harry Potter is. He's probably the most famous fictional character in history."

"Oh," River looked puzzled. "Have you read it?"

"Yes. Seen the movies too," I told him.

"Is it good?"

"It depends. Are you into the whole my-parents-are-dead-I-am-a-wizard-at-some-crazy-school-with-an-evil-overlord-trying-to-kill-me genre?" Again River studied my face again, unsure if I was making fun of him or not.

"In any case, I wish for you to get me the series," he said, pushing his face back into the book in his hands. It was only now that I realised what he was reading. It was dog-eared and faded, spine falling apart, pages falling out. There was nothing on the dark cover except two words in the centre. But then, this book didn't need anything else.

"I can get you a new copy of that too," I offered. River looked up, his brow creasing.

"They still sell these?" he asked. I laughed again.

"Of course. Every book store in the world sells that."

"Really?"

"The Bible is the most printed book worldwide," I told him.

"But why? Isn't it just another book? How did it last so long?"

"People worship that book."

"Worship?"

"Yes, the God that is mentioned is worshiped. People follow the Bible. It is sort of like a code of living."

"A rule book," River said as if something was dawning upon him.

"Um… more like a guide book. Not everyone believes it. And those who do don't necessarily follow it word for word."

"I see." River nodded. "But is it real?"

"No one can really be sure, but a lot of people believe it to be, yes." I felt a need to argue what humans believed. I had always been opened minded about religion – my mother was a firm believer – but somehow… after what had happened to me. It got harder and harder to believe. Logic and doubt overshadowed the belief. It almost made me angry. God wasn't here to help me or save me. I was stuck in this hellhole with a monster my whole life with no one to save me. What sort of God would let that happen? Maybe I was being selfish… yet, if this was happening, and not just to me, there was something wrong with the world. What sort of God would make anyone go through this? "Christianity is only one religion. There are many around the world. Then there are others who don't believe at all."

"But some people believe that these stories happened? Heaven and Hell? God and Satan? Angels and Demons?"

"Yes, to some it makes sense."

"That everything is balanced? Explained by believing in God? Always a right and wrong? No in between?"

"Yes."

"I see," River nodded. "The human mind is very complex."

"Well, when I go to the book store I'll get a new copy. In fact, I think I could probably get you a study copy."

"Study copy?"

"Yeah, it's just copy with notes and explanations and stuff."

"Yes," River nodded again. "I would like that very much."

"Sure," I shrugged. It wasn't gratitude, but it was as close as you got with River. I turned and began to make my way towards the door.

"Just one more thing," River called. I turned. "What do you believe?"

"I…" The cross flashed in my mind. "I don't know. I believe that belief creates reality."

"How so?"

"Like anything. A thought. A story. It's real when someone's in it. Believes it. Doesn't matter if it's not real. To them, it is."

"How do you figure that?"

I moved slightly. River's eyes followed me. "Honesty is easy. Truth. It's easy. It's what happen. There's nothing new there. Fiction is where the genius lies."

"Every human lies."

"But how often is that lie real? How often is that lie the truth?"

"It isn't."

"Until it becomes real. Until it becomes the truth."

"But it's always a lie."

"Until it never was."

"That doesn't change anything."

"Yes, it does. It changes everything. If someone can believe something so completely, like in a God, it's reality."

"But that doesn't mean it's real. It's still a lie."

"No, it's not. Not anymore. It's people's belief that makes anything real. Without that, there's nothing."

"Even if it's a lie?"

"It's not a lie. It's real. Some times people need something to believe in. The hope that someone will save them. The hope that life isn't really as bad as it seems. That there is someone out there."

"So you think it's a lie? God?"

"Not at all. I have no idea if God is real or not and I don't feel I have any right to say that He doesn't."

"Have you ever loved anyone before?" River asked suddenly. I stiffened unconsciously. The change of pace startled me.

"Yes. Many people. I love all my family. Mix too," I told him, the pain in my heart only stabbing a little now. My lungs burnt a little, but I was able to stop myself from hyperventilating. The stinging in my eyes was still there; I ignored it. "Don't you remember love?"

"My human memories faded a long time ago."

"Right," I said, trying to make for the door again. Human memories? I recalled Enda telling me that River had been human.

"Wait," River said. "How did you know? That you loved your family."

"How _do_ I know," I corrected. "Well… I would stay here, with you, to keep them alive. Even if it means I die without even seeing them again."

"Yes… so you would risk your life for someone you love?"

"I guess," I shrugged, not to eager to talk about this topic.

"Anything else?"

"I miss them. More than anything in the world. I accidentally ran into my mother the other day at the supermarket… and when she didn't recognise me…" I trailed off, already feeling the tears welling, the stinging in my eyes not really helping. I looked down. My lungs were burning a little more, and I had to breathe through my mouth.

"Yes?" River prompted. He was never good at reading emotions. I took a gulp, trying force my tears back.

I looked at River, staring into his bottomless blue eyes and said, "I almost died."

River looked stunned. "But that is ridiculous. You are perfectly fit and healthy. I have never neglected you," he protested.

I laughed loudly. It sounded bitter and hurt. Not what I was used to.

"Yes, I'm prefect healthy. But there's something wrong with me. You just haven't noticed."

"What is wrong?" River looked suddenly concerned.

"I don't want to live. I don't want to be here. I want to die," I told him, tears spilling over the edge of my eyes. River's face softened and he put his book down, moving closer to me. But he stopped before he touched me. He didn't know what to do. He reached out and put his fingers on my cheek. I didn't flinch away, but I did purse my lips.

"That is not strange," he said tenderly. "I have wished I were dead for most of my existence." His hand stayed on my cheek. It was rough and scratchy but not uncomfortable.

"I guess we have something in common then," I said bitterly.

"If you wished it, I could remove those memories for you. Filter out the parts with your family…"

"No!" I screeched. I didn't realise how high my voice was until River frowned in discomfort and dropped his hand. "Please, don't. I… I just need to keep that. It's what makes me… me. I don't want to lose that."

"You believe your family defines you?" River looked puzzled.

"Yes," I whispered. "The people you love define you." Then I turned and got out of there as fast as I could.

I studied the cross again. Not sure what I saw. What it meant to me. Why was it my… symbol of hope? I didn't hold much hope in God or the Bible. They had abandoned me long ago. So why was the cross what I woke up and fell asleep to?

The thought hit me like a fall. I felt winded and breathless. It wasn't a symbol of hope. It was a symbol of human life. It was a symbol that even though there was bad out there, good was there too. It showed human perseverance and faith. Something that was rare now. The cross was not hope. It was a belief. A reason. A reality. Not in the belief of God, but of humans themselves. When I looked at that cross, I didn't see God, I saw what us humans had made. A way out of this world. A reason not to fear death. There were many reasons to fear life – what I was going through was an obvious reason – but death wasn't something to fear.

Death was a release. A relief. Something I wished for more and more each day.


	9. My Prince

**I do wish to serverly apologise for taking so long to update - but don't worry from now on I should be updating weekly until it's finished. I went overseas and had exams etc. so I was very busy, but I'm a little more free now. **

**So without further ado, here it is. **

**Jess**

* * *

**8. My Prince**

I knew where to go. A place where nights and days melded into one, the only difference being the way the light changed and how loud the streets were. Anytime was good for sleeping, eating or shooting up. A place where the world disappeared in a pinprick of pain and problems vanished in the reflection of a dusty mirror. A place where dreams faded, hopes fell behind, light crumbled and people were ruined.

Johnny's. The Shed.

But then, the people were pretty ruined before they entered the house. Damaged. Broken. So, couldn't it be reasoned that the drugs actually saved those people? If only for a few trippy hours.

I walked slowly from the train station, droplets of rain running from hair and down my back, watching people on mobile phones or dragging young children away. Consumed in their lives. I thought of how easily mine was taken away. What could have been. I picked up my pace, disgusted that I could have let myself think those depressing thoughts. But no matter how fast you run or walk, your mind isn't something you can escape that easily. Some schoolgirls passed by, laughing and giggling. I couldn't help but think of my own life that had once been. The pain wasn't so bad this time. And only a few memories flashed into my mind before I subsided them. I was getting better at this.

The house was dirty. Johnny's house. Full of old pizza boxes, beer bottles, clothes, left over Chinese and broken glasses. On the table were a small square mirror and a tiny blade. On the kitchen bench top was a bong and ashtray full of old cigarette butts. I, from experience, knew that in a cupboard above the sink was a small kit. Inside were syringes, a piece of cloth and large spoon.

"Who are you?" Johnny asked from the doorway of his room. The lights were off and I could only see the dim light of a digital clock filtering from his room. There was someone in the room, hastily putting clothes on. I couldn't see who it was, but I got the feeling that it'd be a girl with dilated pupils, flushed cheeks and track marks.

"Giselle," I answered stiffly. Johnny ran his eyes over me, drinking me in. I could almost see the images of me he'd be creating in his head.

"How'd you get in here?"

"The door was open."

"So you just walked in?" Johnny tried to look angry, but it didn't suit him. He was just too much of a pathetic no-hoper to pull off anger. He was all about half living through the haze of drugs. He was good looking – in the drug dealer way. Thin, scrawny and pale with a lip ring, a stud in his eyebrow and a nape piercing. His hair was cropped black and fell at strange angles. He wore thick chains around his neck and had tattoos running shoulder to shoulder and down his spine. His eyes were a foggy golden hazel that I'd always loved. At the moment his face was flushed, meaning he'd either just had sex with some girl, or snorted a line of coke. Maybe both. Wouldn't surprise me.

"I heard you were someone to see for a good time."

"Well," Johnny smiled, "you have that right." At that moment, the girl who'd been in the bedroom with Johnny came out, closing the door behind her. She wore a shabby shirt and shorts, her hair wild and looking ragged. I was right about the track marks. But what I hadn't been prepared for was the not-so-plump figure and heart shaped face.

Mix turned to face me, nothing registering on her face except the effects of whatever drug she was on. She was thin and gaunt. Death seeped from her. She was different. So different to anything I remembered. And in that moment I hated River so much I could've killed someone. My hands shook with rage while inside my heart died just a little more. I wondered how long it would take till there was nothing left.

"Who's that?" Mix asked Johnny, nodding her head towards me.

"Giselle," he smirked. Mix nodded and found a seat, flicking on the TV and not paying any more attention to me. Johnny grabbed the mirror and blade from the table and passed it to Mix. Then he went to the cupboard above the sink and pulled out his kit. He shuffled around in his room for a bit before returning with two small jars. He threw one to Mix and then sat, gesturing for me to take a place next to him. I did.

Mix looked jealous for a second, but then she pushed it aside and began tapping the small jar, full of white powder, onto the mirror.

Johnny, on the other hand, tapped whatever was in his jar into a large tablespoon. He spat into it and mixed together the powder and slag with the tip of a syringe. When he was satisfied with his creation he carefully sucked the drug into the syringe, seemingly hypnotised by the upward motion of the top of the needle.

Mix used the blade to push the coke into two neat lines.

Johnny took out the piece of cloth and tied it carefully around his left arm, just above the crook of his elbow. He open and closed his fist a few times, watching the veins in his arm. I could see the few partially healed puncture wounds at his elbow. They made me sick.

Mix, finished with her lines, took out a thin plastic tube and placed it over one nostril. She covered the other and leant over the mirror, snorting slowly, moving the tube across the line of coke. It disappeared and she pulled the tube away from her nose, giving one last sniff and rubbing her nose.

Johnny picked up the syringe he'd placed on the coffee table beside him and put the tip of the needle next to his skin on a wound that was almost completely healed. At an angle, she slowly inserted the silver metal under the skin, into his vein. He pressed the top of the syringe and I watched the liquid disappear into his body. I imagined the path it'd take. To his heart, then to his brain. Poisoning it. Poisoning him. Johnny removed the needle and threw it on the coffee table, relaxing back into the couch with a sigh, closing his eyes and folding his hands over his chest.

I looked back to Mix who now held the mirror out to me, looking at me impatiently. I took it from her and placed it on the coffee table.

"Do I know you from somewhere? Do you go to school?" she asked me.

"Even if I did, would you notice? Somehow I get the feeling you spend most of your time snorting coke and screwing Johnny." I wasn't entirely sure as to why I was directing all my anger towards Mix. It was River I should be angry at.

"Gee, sorry," Mix said with a roll of her eyes. I closed my eyes for a second and took a breath.

"Are you gonna do that line?" I heard Johnny ask me. "We don't give out freebies often."

"Yeah," I muttered. I sat forward on my chair and leaned over the mirror. The gaunt, paled face that stared back at me, scared me. My hair slipped out from behind my ears and hung down the side of my face like an auburn curtain. My golden charm fell from the place under my shirt and dangled over the mirror. It lost its gleam looking through the scratches and dust. I picked up the plastic tube and stared at the small white particles of powder being reflected off the mirror.

It was only a few months ago Johnny had been offering me anything I wanted with this. He'd called me Belle. I'd hated it. Refused anything he'd offered. I'd never taken any drugs before now. He had particularly wanted my virginity. It seemed to be some novelty to him. Now, here I was, ready to give my mind to him. What was I doing?

I took a breath and placed the tube on my nose, blocking the open nostril. I brought the plastic tube just above the mirror and hovered it there. I waited. What for, I wasn't sure. I could see my eyes in the mirror. Blank. Lonely. Hopeless. Doomed. Anger crossed my face and I sniffed, moving the plastic tube along the line. It burnt the inside of my nose for a few seconds. But I pulled back and sniffed again, rubbing my nose like Mix had. I placed the tube back on the, now clean, mirror and sat back, waiting for the effects to kick in.

"Have you guys ever heard of faeries?" I asked.

"Yeah," Mix said, lighting up. "One lives in the mansion. You know, the one on top of the hill?"

I desperately wanted to say, "Well, yeah, considering it's the only mansion in the town, dah." But I didn't.

"Don't get her started," Johnny groaned. "Especially when she's high."

"He steals girls," Mix said.

"Yeah? How?"

Mix shrugged. "Just does. Makes them his slaves." She frowned, as if she were trying to remember something. "I've said this before." She looked carefully at me. "I could've sworn… you look familiar. I remember being at the gates… I was waiting for someone. They never came out." She paused again. "I was scared. But it was okay. I left."

"Do you know you're still talking?" Johnny said rudely. Mix sunk back into the couch.

I stood. Quickly. "I need to go."

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Thanks." Then I left.

As I walked back through the streets, my brain seemed to be clearer than it'd been in a long time. I was twitchy, and I felt too itchy for my skin. I wanted to run. The fey I was seeing looked even more surreal that normal. I saw a woman, made of bones and ribbon.

"Come, come, pretty girl," she said to me.

I stared at a wall and walked away.

A man faery watched me walk through a park and asked, "Would you like to join me in a dance? No harm will come to you."

I kept my head down and sped up. Sometimes little sprites would whisper things in my ears, and I would feel so confused. I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the fey magic. Maybe a little of both.

"You're the second," one said.

"You need to tell," another whispered.

"Death will come."

"Angus will bring it."

"You can't save anyone."

"Magic begins with blood."

"You're not like the others."

"There's something about you."

"He will catch you."

I lost track of time and spent most of the day walking around the streets, getting lost and trying to avoid the pixies that wanted to play. Finally, I made it home, feeling cold and subdued. The world had dulled again and everything seemed darker.

"What did you do?" I heard River growl from behind me the instant I opened the door. I was startled by his sudden presence and surprised by his tone.

"What are you talking about?" I asked defensively, not actually knowing what he meant. He grabbed me and spun me to face him, holding my shoulders tightly.

"You – your blood – smells wrong. What did you do?" River snarled. Oh, right. He meant the coke. The fact that River could smell my blood only reinforced the fact that he was more animal than human. He moved his nose near my neck and sniffed the vein there.

"Just a little something to… keep me sane," I told him. A rumble ripped out of River's throat and he pulled me into him.

"You did drugs. What were you thinking?"

"Honestly, I was thinking of you."

"And that drove you to poison yourself?"

"You're surprised?"

"How could you be so reckless?"

"Mix was there."

"What?" River asked, startled by my change of subject.

"Mix and I made a pact. We both said we'd never go back to the Shed. We promised. Because we knew Johnny was dangerous. We knew that what he did was dangerous. We promised that we'd never do any of that stuff. We promised we'd never sleep with Johnny or any of his drones." I felt the tears before I actually knew I was crying. "But she was there. She was sleeping with Johnny. She was doing coke."

"I'm sorry, Giselle," River said. He pulled me into him. Anger surged through me and I fought against him. I pulled and pushed till he let me go. I stumbled out of his reach and pointed at him.

"No. I don't want you to be sorry. It's your fault. You did this to her. You're killing her. You're killing me. I don't know how you manage it, but you destroy everything you touch. Have you noticed that the only thing that's stood up to you over all these years is this house? And it's obvious how much comfort that's given you. Now, you're just a bitter monster. A bitter monster with no one. No one. And it isn't just because you can't love anyone – it's because no one would ever be stupid enough to love _you_." I hadn't noticed I was shouting until silence cloaked me after my rant. My breathing was fast and my legs felt heavy. I was suddenly tired. I sunk to my knees and sat there. River's face was hard. He looked down over me with his jaw set and said,

"You touch drugs again, and I promise you will regret it."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked cold and empty. The dark circles that hung precariously under my eyes were a startling contrast to the pale white skin I harboured. What I was, wasn't normal. I couldn't sleep, for fear of slipping into a nightmare. For weeks, my dreams – nightmares – continued. I'd wake at 2, 3, 4, 5 shaking and sweating. Too nervous to go to sleep, to tired to move. Until one night.

"Perhaps you would like to join me in the ballroom after dinner?" River asked. It was more of a demand than suggestion. "It would be nice if you wore the ball gown in your closet." We were both in the dining room, eating a stir-fry I had prepared.

"Is that what you did to all your little human pets?" I asked spitefully.

River didn't lose his temper; as usual he was calm and collected. He simply smiled and cocked his head. "I have a beautiful ballroom, a beautiful woman who has a beautiful ball gown. Why not use them? You might enjoy it," River said.

"It's the use part I'm worried about," I said dryly, my tongue sticking to the back of my throat as I thought back to my many nightmares. The ones with River's hideously white body pressing upon mine, his hips, waist, legs, rubbing against me awkwardly. His corpse-like mouth on mine, tongue opening my lips. His cold, scratchy hands running over my body. The bottomless eyes drinking me up greedily. Him grunting and moaning in pleasure – the fear that I would too. I shuddered unconsciously.

"Do you really believe I would do that you?" River asked, looking hurt.

"You've abducted me and forced me to work as your slave. I expected that…" I couldn't even say it aloud. Sex. Rape. What was the correct phrase? "That there would be other pleasures you wanted too."

"If there is one thing I would never force upon a woman, it is me. No one wants me. And I would never enforce that. Not on a woman who is frightened of me; of how I look." River looked stung; as if it was horrible I could think such a thing. But also he seemed… self-conscious. I felt guilty. And I knew that was irrational, because River was nothing short of evil and crazy… still, I felt something for him. Maybe he hadn't always been like this. Maybe he hadn't wanted this. I'd never know.

Silence followed, and we stayed silent for the rest of the evening. River didn't bring up the ballroom again, and I didn't say anything.

After dinner, when I was in my room, I did actually go to my closet. Not that I had any intention of going to the ballroom, I just took out the midnight blue ball gown out of the cupboard. I lay it softly down on my bed and slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt. I pulled the dress over my head after undoing the laces of the corset at the back. I tried to do up the laces once I had the dress on, but found it immensely difficult.

_Then I felt hands behind me take the ribbon and gently pull the corset tight, fastening the laces so I was straight backed and thin. I turned my head to the mirror, seeing River standing behind me. The dress, was beautiful, and fitted perfectly. I looked like a princess, or a royal in a fancy court. River looked surprisingly stunning too. He wore a beautiful blue shirt – loose fitting, falling around his body easily, coming into a high collar at his neck, sleeves tumbling over his arms and coming in at the wrists – that tucked into his pants, flopped over the elastic and buttoned up to his neck. It was beautifully embroidered with gold and silver lace to match the beading on my dress. His shoes were black and slightly pointed, sitting under white pants that fell just above his hips. We both looked like something out of the eighteenth century._

_He stood behind me, one hand on my lower back, the other crossed behind him. My hands were on my stomach, touching the fabric of the material. We looked like a couple. Like a painting. It was bizarre._

"Have you reconsidered?" River asked me softly.

I couldn't speak. Instead I just shook my head.

River nodded. "I assumed so. In any case, you look beautiful." Then he was gone, and I was left, standing in the ball gown, looking at the reflection of River and I.

That night I dreamt of a prince.

_He stands in the ballroom I am so familiar with, under the red rose, his silhouette beckoning me. I walk forward and realise I am wearing the beautiful midnight blue ball gown from my closet. It sways around my body, making me look as if I float over the marble floors. When the prince steps out of the shadows, I am shocked beyond belief. It is River. But not my River. Not my patient hideous master. This is a River from another time. Another world. _

He is tall and beautiful. Magnificent. More beautiful than anyone could imagine. His pasty white skin isn't so. In fact, it is a deep honey brown. I'd been wrong in my assumption that River was Caucasian with the pale skin. No. He's closer to Middle Eastern or Indian. And so beautiful. So… perfectly gorgeous it doesn't fit with the pasty, blue-eyed, black-tongued River I am used to. He has a thin face with prominent cheekbones and a square jaw line. His eyebrows are no longer scaly ridges, but only a thin line over his beautiful – human – blue eyes. His skin isn't calloused; it is smooth and silken. Instead of the deathly blue lips, they are full and pink. And he is in his mid twenties.

My Prince River wears something that looks like it was from the same eighteenth century my dress has come from. His shoes are black and slightly pointed, sitting under white pants that fall just above his hips. He wears a beautiful blue shirt – loose fitting, falling around his body easily, coming into a high collar at his neck, sleeves tumbling over his arms and coming in at the wrists – that tucks into his pants, flops over the elastic and buttons up to his neck. Though, the top few buttons are undone, showing off that beautiful chocolate chest. The shirt is beautifully embroidered with gold and silver lace making the whole effect of the dark skin, blue eyes, white pants, blue shirt, all the more alluring. My prince smiles, and I am relieved to see there is no black tongue or pointed teeth, just a jaw dropping smile.

"If I may have this dance?" my prince asks in River's voice. And yes, this voice deserves the body it is coming from. Alluring, silky and mesmerising. I almost fall into River's arms. He looks down at me, like a stunning angel, and smiles. My knees feel weak as my prince takes a proper dancing stance – one arm around my waist, my hand on his shoulder, my other hand enclosed in his palm. As soon as he takes a step, a soft melody begins playing from the piano across the room. It is full of long notes, deep and soothing, with a softer, lighter melody over the top. It isn't the same melody I heard after my nightmare when River had been playing; it is something different all together. My prince spins me around the room as if the dance has been made for us alone. I rejoice in my prince's presence, savouring every touch and breath. Then, as the song comes to a close, out entwined bodies slow. We finish in the centre of the room, my prince smiling down over me. My prince leans down, brining his lips to mine in a light feathery kiss. Then he pulls away and whispers,

"_For now, this is all the time I can spare. But I will be waiting tomorrow." And then he is gone. _

And I awoke with that pressure on my lips, unsure if it were real or not.

Every night I no longer had the nightmares that my life was over or that I was hopelessly lost. From that moment on I only ever dreamt of the beautiful River. My prince. And every night it was the same dream. In the ballroom, me wearing my midnight blue gown, River wearing the white pants and blue shirt. He would ask me to dance, and then the same melody would play, before it would end and River would repeat the same words to me before leaving. And even though the dream was the same every night I never got bored. In fact, I anticipated sleeping just so I could see my prince; savour his touch, his kiss.

He was mine during those times. He was mine.


	10. South Wing

**9. South Wing**

The south wing had been off limits to me. Forever. But I was reeling about Mix. And I had walked past the doors that led there and each time I had an urge to enter. Like something was drawing me there. Finally, I gave up. The south wing was mine. I didn't know where River was, and I could hardly care less. Maybe if he found me, he'd kill me.

I toyed with the idea. It felt good.

The first floor of the south wing had another foyer like room, then a room that was locked. I had no idea what it was, but I was entirely curious. I'd been given a key for the many doors in the house, and I was interested to know if any of them fit. I tried each one without success. It irritated me. But there was little I could do, so I went to the next floor.

It was a gallery. Set out in a large space with a few marble walls jutting out, paintings hung on them. It was mostly full of many of River's paintings. There were more sculptures too. Sculptures of fey and humans. They were all beautiful, but I was hardly surprised. There were also a few of River's music compositions as well and sketches and drawings. I spent some time looking at them, but soon they all became a blur. I swore each face looked like mine. The third floor was similar to the second. Just another gallery.

The one thing that I noticed was that everything was dusty and dark. Some paintings were covered in a sheet. I assumed this was because the maids were never allowed to come in here to clean. So it stayed a musty mess. It was almost… foreboding.

It was the fourth floor that was the most interesting. It was an art studio, or workshop.

I stepped into the room hesitantly, not scared, just not wanting to make any noise or see River. The room dark, dank and dusty. A few hundred years worth of dust. Although, River had said this place had been around for a long time – longer than our human history had said – under a different glamour. So maybe a few thousand years worth of dust. Yuck.

A little light filtered through the dirt-covered stained glass windows on adjacent sides off the rooms – this room was in the very corner of the house. It looked like the art rooms at my school. It had a few long benches with cupboards and easels. There were paint pallets and brushes scattered everywhere. There were also a few buckets, of what I assumed to be full of clay, with sinks and taps near them. In the back of the room was a kiln. I have to say I wasn't so surprised. I guessed this was where River painted.

I looked at each of the easels, covered with half finished paintings. On the benches were more rolled up pieces of paintings. I studied each one carefully, tracing my fingers over the careful brush strokes, sometimes picking them up and letting beams of light fall over the colours. Not all the paintings were out of the opaque window as I had first assumed.

Some were of the ballroom; two figures in one another's arms. One figure was male and had dark skin, though his face wasn't clear, and wore a blue shirt and white pants. The other figure was a woman, silky black hair, chocolate skin and a midnight blue dress. It was very pretty painting. It reminded me so much of my dreams it scared me, and I turned the painting away so I didn't have to look at it.

Some paintings were of a sunset or a simple chair sitting in the centre of one of the empty rooms in the mansion. But what I found most unsettling about these paintings was that they all were so… enigmatic. They gave off this sort of… feeling. A suppressed, powerful feeling of loneliness and isolation. But then, maybe that was just me. Just what I knew. I knew too much, I decided.

I was about to leave the room, but something caught my eye. A fairy. Like the ones on the mantle piece of the dining room. A tiny sculpture that looked like a stereotypical faery from the stories. I walked to the tiny clay figure that currently was just a shape, no real colour except the rusty colour of dried out clay.

I picked it up in my hands and looked at it carefully. She was wearing a long ball gown – one that looked very similar to the one in my closet, to the one I had only ever worn once – that was carved so perfectly it looked terribly real. Like a miniature human. Except for the wings. I traced my hands over the large butterfly-type wings that protruded from the figure's back. They were also immaculately carved, down to the last detail, last line.

I turned the fairy over in my hands – it was no bigger than my palm – and almost dropped the sculpture. It was me. The thin face, small eyes and fearless expression. I knew the small nose and high cheekbones. The slender figure and long legs.

This was me. And it was so perfect the beauty the figure showed stunned me. The loose curls that fell gently around my shoulders, arms angled behind my back, head arched upward, as if I were about to take off and fly.

This was me, but it was me from a different time. A different place. Somewhere happy. This wasn't me anymore. Without much conscious thought my hand came down on the bench with too much force. My palm muffled the sound of the smash and I smiled. I lifted my hand slowly and looked at the damage. The fairy version of me was in pieces on the bench, some sharp bits of clay were sticking out of my palm. I slowly picked each shard out of my hand, watching the blood flow and smiling more with each cut.

How dare he have a figurine of me. Nothing more to sit up on the mantelpiece with all those other maids. A souvenir. A memento. I'm a person – not a small sculpture to be admired and fawned over. Not a piece of artwork. I took a step away from the bench and looked again at the room. Dust hung over everything like a cloud. Like River. So old and hidden it was enough to scare anyone sane. I laughed. Laughed at the thought of being sane. I guess I knew that I was slowly going mad. I guess I knew I would end up nothing more than a mad woman, cleaning the house of an immortal faery. I laughed again, louder. Maybe I was mad. That would make more sense. More sense than me being held captive by a magic faery. Actually, maybe that was true. I was simply mad. At that thought I smiled again. Madness would be so much better than this nightmare being real. Madness.

"Madness." The word tasted good. "I'm crazy. Insane." I laughed as the words make me feel giddy. Happy.

"Giselle?" I heard River's deep soothing voice enquire. My dream-like giddiness disappeared in an instant. His voice woke me. I hated it. I hated him.

"Yes," I said turning slowly to face him. I was reminded of my prince. I wondered whether River's lips would be much like my prince's. No, I knew that River's cold dead lips wouldn't know warmth even if I stuck them to a hot pan. That idea felt good to me – sticking River's lips to a hot pan. In fact, sticking his whole head in a pot of boiling water sounded good to me. "Who else would it be? It isn't as if you have friends." I felt… reckless.

"That is true," River said, not bothered by my comment. "But why are you here? I asked you not to enter the south wing."

"Well, it only makes one curious," I shrugged. I moved towards him, making for the door. As I tried to pass him, he grabbed my arm roughly, sending a shiver up me as his fingers brushed too close to my side.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, nodding his head towards the smashed remains of the figurine. "Was it not a true representation?" River's unfathomable blue eyes stared me down, daring me to say no.

"She was happy," I answered.

"Is there something wrong with that?" River just looked confused. He was close to me, hand still holding my arm, our noses close. I felt my hair ruffled as each breath escaped his lips. Again, I had an urge to see if River's lips are like my prince's. Just one kiss… No! River wasn't my prince. He was nothing more than a monster. My monster, but a monster all the same.

"Let's just say I don't particularly want to be stuck up on a mantelpiece like nothing more than cheap decoration. I'm real, River. I'm a real person. Not some pathetic toy you get to play with."

"That could be debatable," River said in a cold voice that I hadn't heard him use before. His hand tightened on my arm for a second, eyes digging into me. I felt myself shudder under his stare, but I didn't look away. Instead, I moved my mouth closer to River's. I let a small breath out, near his chin. I saw River's mouth droop just a little. I brought my lips to the top of his cheekbone and felt River's body as it went rigid against mine. I grazed my lips slowly across River's cheek and down the line of his jaw. I could feel his scratchy skin, but for some reason, it was a little thrilling.

I wasn't scared of River raping me anymore; I think it was the dreams that conquered that fear. Now, I knew how to use what I had over him. River was frozen. I could tell. Having this… power over him made me feel better. Stronger. Like I wasn't so goddamn helpless. I moved my free arm to River's waist, bringing it down to his hip, over the bone and down the side of his leg. My lips were still near his, but I didn't make any move to get them closer. I kept my mouth on his cheek, just at the corner of his lips. I wanted to see what he would do. Just a slight turn of his head to the right and he could kiss me. Turn to the left and the spell would be broken. It was his choice. I was startlingly aware of River's ragged breathing and the way his body was reacting to my close proximity.

"Well," I whispered, moving my lips over his skin as I spoke. "If I'm your toy, if I'm no more than something to keep you occupied, show me. Show me what you want to do with me. With my beauty. With my body." River still didn't move, his body stiff, every muscle taunt. I couldn't help but smile, River's callused skin brushing against my lips as I did. I was about to pull away, when River's arm snaked around my waist, his hand finding the small of my back. I could feel the metal coil he always wore digging into my back. The breath caught in my throat, wondering if he had called my bluff.

"Do not tease me, my dear Giselle." He said it. _My dear Giselle._ Just like my nightmares. I was suddenly cold, the hairs on the back of my neck standing. "There is not much a man can do when he has been provoked," River said into my ear, his voice uneven and course. So unlike the smooth confidence I was used to. He was unnerved. I had unnerved River. I felt triumphant. I smiled without hesitation.

"You scared?" I coaxed. We were still embraced, my hand on his leg, his arm around my back, our mouths so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.

"You are a dangerous girl," River answered. I ran my lips softly over his, feeling the way his jaw snapped shut and hand tightened around me, then I pulled away, staring at River, watching him watch me.

"You have a weakness," I grinned.

"I have many, I just do not like revealing them," River answered, his expression not changing. He released my arm and looked me up and down. "I think you should leave."

"Already gone." I turned quickly, then asked, "What's on the first floor of this wing? The locked door?" I didn't face him, instead stopped at the doorframe.

"It is a vault. Treasury."

"Oh. Where you keep your stolen money."

"Do not try my patience. You know what I can do."

I left. As quietly as I could. I was certain I could feel his eyes on me.

"Back again, Giselle Belle," Johnny smirked as I entered the living room. That was the nickname he'd used when I'd known him before River. Giselle belle. He'd told me that _belle_ meant beauty in French. Like the story, Beauty and the Beast. He'd always said that I was the beauty and he was beast. I'd told him to keep dreaming.

There were two strangers sitting on the couch, their movements slow and sloppy, as if they were in water. A bong was sitting on the coffee table next to them.

"Couldn't get enough of you," I told him, only half joking. Johnny laughed softly.

"You want some more?" he asked.

"How much am I going to have to pay?"

"Only as much as the next guy."

"Seems fair," I answered. I'd seen Johnny deal before, and knew about how much I'd have to pay. It was safely tucked away in my pocket. Johnny nodded, moving to one of the rooms and coming back, slumping down on the couch. He held up his hand, and shook the small plastic pocket of white powder.

"Got the money?"

"If cash is all right with you?" I said with sarcasm and held out my notes. Johnny smiled at the money as it entered his palm. He passed over the small packet of coke and began counting his cash. Once he'd done that he offered me a seat. I shook my head.

"You aren't gonna' do that here?" he asked, looking surprised.

"Nope, I'm saving it for later."

"Sure. It won't last long," Johnny laughed. I ignored him.

"Is Mix here?"

"Nope." Johnny shook his head. "Haven't seen her in…" He paused, no doubt trying to remember when day and night began and ended. After a few seconds he shrugged and said, "A few days. Don't know where she went."

"Okay," I nodded. "Thanks. I'll see you."

"Of course, Giselle Belle."

I stared at myself in the mirror. Watching the way my hair fell about my face. The way my lips curved. The way my cheekbones were shaped. I wasn't pretty anymore, I decided. Not with coke resting gently in my hand. Why did I go back to Johnny's? I reasoned that it was to see Mix, but I knew that was just a validation. I'd wanted more coke. I'd wanted to feel alive again. The small plastic packet suddenly felt heavy in my hands. I shook it. The white particles moved, but didn't change. I wasn't entirely sure why that surprised me. What would River do if I took some now? I could almost feel the pressure of the angel and demon that fell upon my shoulders.

Angel:_ There's no reason to do it. _(The voice of logic and rationality).

Demon: _I thought being held captive by River was enough reason. _(The voice of justification).

Angel:_ It didn't feel that good last time._

Demon:_ Are you kidding? It felt awesome._

Angel:_ It just clouds your judgement. _

Demon:_ And what do you need judgement for. Your whole life is controlled by River anyway._

Angel:_ You and Mix had a pact._

Demon:_ Mix broke it first. _

_Angel:_ You don't even have a mirror to put the lines on. _(The angel was really clutching at straws now)._

Demon:_ CDs work perfectly well. _(The counter always managed to sound more persuasive).

_Angel:_ River will get mad.

Demon:_ He gets mad anyway. At least this way you can block him out. _

Angel:_ I guess that's true. _(Gee, it didn't take much for the angel to be swayed)._ But, really, Giselle, that doesn't make it any better._

Demon:_ Oh, but it does. You and I know, Giselle. That prude angel has no idea what we've been through. And what the high feels like. _

Angel:_ Fine. _(The angel's pouting now)._ Give me some. I'll prove that drugs don't solve anything._

I dropped the packet of coke onto my dresser and scrambled to find two CDs. Once I had, I opened the packet of white powder and shook some onto one disc. With the other I shifted the coke into a line. I dropped the second CD and lifted the first to my nose. My distorted reflection looked back at me. Twisted and vague it was almost a true representation. For some reason this made me smile. I tipped the CD slightly, watching the light bounce off it. My reflection disappeared, replacing it with the blue colour of my marble room. Slivers of rainbow coloured light leapt from the CD, spinning around the disc as I shifted its position. What was the point? Was there one?

Yes, I decided. I grabbed a pen and pulled out the ink cylinder. I snapped the pen in half so it was just an empty plastic tube. I put the CD on my dresser and knelt down beside it. Bringing the broken pen to my nose, I lowered my head carefully over the CD.

I guess I could blame the demon the first time. The second time, I could blame the angel. The third time, was entirely me.

Once is a mistake. Twice is a reminder. Three times can't be justified. It was the high. And that's it. The high that drove me.

River was mad. But it didn't seem real. And I didn't care. He yelled, but I mostly ignored it. Finally, he left, mumbling something about punishment when I wasn't so delirious. And I left the house.

Again I was followed by dreams and fey. It seemed my mind was so much more open with the powder. It felt good. This time I smiled at some fey. Even flirted a little. River would be so mad. Jealous, even. It made me laugh. I liked that.

I even found myself somewhere familiar. In my old street. In front of my house. I watched it for a long time. I wondered if my family were thinking strange things of the weird girl standing in their driveway. It only made me laugh louder.

Soon, the feeling wore off. And I wanted more.

It didn't take long to get to Johnny's.


	11. Melody

**A/N: This story, even though it can be read as a stand alone story is interconnected with another story I am writing at the moment. Neither story is set before the other, but rather at the same time, in the same fey world, just in different places with different people. However they do connect and each character meets the other, so reading it together gives more of an insight into each of the main characters individual stories, but is in no way a requirement. **

**Should you wish to read both, just go to my profile and find the story **_The Girl Behind the Glamour_**. It's a Cinderella re-tell. **

**Thanks, Jess.**

**

* * *

**

**10. Melody **

I was scared of Johnny's. I wanted it, but that didn't change the fear factor. Fear of Johnny. Of the drugs. Of River's wrath. Sometimes I wondered why I did it. But I knew. The high. That was why I did it.

River yelled, but I could block that out. He got frustrated and threatened me, but the threats became empty. I think somewhere he became guilty and felt he couldn't hurt me over something he drove me to do in the first place.

Johnny moved towards me with the vile.

"This, can give you everything, Belle. Diamonds. Pearls. Pretty dresses." Johnny brought a hand to my face, and ran it downing my cheek, as he whispered, "A single, red, rose."

This is what he had offered me last time. A few months ago. I'd been disgusted. Now, it was just a way of life.

"A rose?"

"What do you want?"

"To see my brother. My parents."

"Then take this," Johnny said passing me the mirror. "You'll see them in there."

The mirror wasn't magic, but it may as well have been. The white powder made it magic.

The images changed. Sharpened. Blurred.

The mirror wasn't magic, but it showed me what I needed to see. I saw my family. My brother. The life I lost. And the life I'd gained. But gained was hardly a word that sounded fit for my misery.

Sometimes I wondered what happened. How this had happened. The drugs. The haze. The lies. The pain.

Mostly, usually, the pain.

I blamed River. But there was only so much blame one person could be held to. So much of it was my fault. So much.

And I hated myself for it. I really hated myself.

I absent-mindedly hummed my prince's melody as I prepared dinner one night. The song had become so ingrained in my head I didn't even need to think about it. I didn't hear River approach until he spoke.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked. I turned in fright, accidentally flicking a piece of chicken across the room with my knife as I whirled around. River smiled at me and took the knife from my hand, placing it on the bench. As he did our hands brushed. River jolted away, as if he'd been burnt. He noticed that I'd noticed and took a step back.

"Hear what?" I asked.

"What you were humming. That melody."

"Oh… umm… not sure. Just around," I shrugged casually, feeling all but casual. I didn't want to tell River about my dreams. They were my secret temptation.

"Around?" River questioned. I turned back to my chicken, picking up the knife and beginning to cut again.

"Why do you ask?"

"I know that melody."

"You do? From where?" I asked, not wanting to reveal my dreams.

"I composed it," River said. I froze and turned slowly.

"You composed it?"

"Yes. But I know I have never played that for you on the piano. The one you heard the night after your nightmare was different. That is why I was wondering where you have heard the melody." River eyed me. Something must have given me away because River asked, "Would you like to try again? Where have you heard that song?"

"I'm embarrassed," I said.

"I do not mind," River said as if he were doing me a favour.

I sighed. "Fine. I dreamt it."

"Dreamt it?" River frowned. I only nodded. "When?"

"A little while ago," I shrugged.

"What was the dream?" he asked. I grimaced. I didn't want to tell the real River about my prince River. "Giselle?"

"It was in the ballroom," I said with a sigh. "There was a prince. We danced to that melody." I was careful not to say who that prince was.

"A prince?" River said, looking thoughtful. "I have to say that I have never entertained any princes in my ballroom."

"No," I said softly. "You haven't."

"Hmm," River said, watching my face carefully. I thought I had given myself away before River turned and said, "Magic is a strange thing."

* * *

"You are upset?" River asked – stated – at dinner that night. I wasn't sure how he knew, and often I didn't even want to know. "May I ask what it wrong?"

"I haven't seen Mix in a long time. I'm worried, that's all."

"I put a charm on her."

"You did _what_?" I all but shouted.

"I put a charm on her. So the drugs wouldn't capture her anymore. I reminded her of how terrible it all is. Of why she didn't need that. I've kept her away from there. It's what you wanted, didn't you?"

I was silent. Then, "Yes. Yes, it was."

River nodded.

"Thank you," I told him.

"Now, will you stay away from him too? He, and his magic – drugs – are dangerous. Please, stay away."

"Okay. I will. Thank you."

River nodded. He stood, leaving his dishes for me to collect, and began to walk away, but I heard him say, "I only did it for you."

* * *

It was a couple of days later that I was walking slowly away from the supermarket, groceries tucked under my arms. As I said before, my neighbourhood wasn't one of the best. You know how you always seem to have that sixth sense when someone is following you. Maybe it was just paranoia. Anyway, I had that paranoia that day. Not sure why, but I did. It turned out I was correct. I looked in one of the abandoned shop windows to see the reflection of a man across the street, watching my movements carefully. I sped up a little. So did he. Brilliant. Just what I needed. I took a few turns that were out of the way. He followed each one. Just as I was about to turn up another street I realised the man was gone. I spun, looking for him. He had disappeared. Well, that was good. I guess my brain didn't register that that might be strange. I turned again to begin home and ran into the man. I froze on the spot. Great. Just great. He was tall – taller than me anyway – with a long black coat. He had dark greasy hair and a lopsided smile. I should say grimace. He looked at me and asked,

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes, home," I informed him, trying to push past him. He grabbed my forearm and hauled me back, making me drop my groceries. He whipped out a knife faster than I thought was possible and held it to my throat. As usual, no panic set in, only anger that this guy was not only delaying me, but had also made me drop all my things.

"I don't think so, honey," he said in a rusty voice. "Got any cash on you?"

"Yes," I said calmly. "I just don't particularly want to give it to you."

"Yeah, well–" His voice was cut off as my free arm swung out and smashed into the side of his head. The man recoiled quickly, dropping the knife and clutching his temple. "You bitch!" he said, bearing his teeth. I was prepared to run. But he got me first, grabbing the back of my jumper and smashing a fist into my face. I fell, stumbling. But apparently the guy wasn't finished with me yet. He pulled back his hand again and slapped me across the cheek. The pain bit at me as I clasped a hand to my face. I staggered back, hitting a wall of an abandoned street shop. The man advanced slowly, watching me carefully. I wasn't scared or panicking as, I'm sure, this guy would be expecting. I was angry, hurt and somewhat defeated. "Give me your cash," the man repeated.

"No," I said defiantly. The man growled and lunged at me. I was too slow to get out of the way as he grabbed my face with two hands and rammed it against the bricks behind me. The world tipped for a moment before black spots appeared in my eyes. Then the world began to spin as I realised I was falling. I hit the ground so slowly I felt every contact my body had with the stones beneath me. Then, everything went black.

When I woke I was cold, stiff and sore. It was dark and wet. How long I'd been lying on the sidewalk for, I didn't know. My head was throbbing and my bones ached. Of course no one had helped me. Gee, don't you love the community spirit. I sat up slowly, waited for everything to stop spinning, and then stood, clutching at the wall beside me. I felt the desire for drugs. To feel the high. To forget. Instantly I turned, ready to walk to Johnny's. My groceries were scattered all over the road, and I left them. There wasn't anything worth salvaging. My throat hurt, and I put my hand to my neck. As I did, I felt the golden chain. And the pendant. I stopped, looking at my reflection in the window of a glass door of a shoe store. I was so pathetic. Running for drugs as soon as anything began to get a little worse than they already were. I closed my eyes, turned around and began to walk home slowly, wrapping my arms around my aching body, head throbbing, wishing I were dead.

* * *

As soon as I got in the door, hood flicked over my head to cover my face, River pounced.

"Where were you? You missed dinner. It is almost ten o'clock." He said it in an annoyed tone, standing by the far door in the foyer.

"I got distracted," I muttered, eager to get upstairs and see what damage that idiot had inflicted.

"For seven hours?" River questioned.

"I guess," I shrugged.

"Let me see your face," River demanded. I sighed and pulled back my hood. River's face changed from anger to annoyance.

"What happened?"

"I fell."

"You are a bad liar, Giselle."

"Someone tried to rob me," I told him with a deflated sigh. "It's no big deal. Just a few bruises." River moved closer to me and put a hand to my face. I sucked in a breath. The other hand rested on my shoulder to stop me from moving away. He probed my face with his scratchy fingertips, pressing to see when I grimaced.

"You are lucky. Nothing is broken," River informed me, now feeling for the cuts at the side and back of my head. "But you have a large cut on your scalp. You will need stiches." Unconsciously I put my hand to the back of my head. My hair was sticky from the blood and I took a sharp intake of breath as I felt the broken skin.

"The doctor will be closed by now," I told River. "And the wait at the hospital will be hours."

"I will do it," he said breezily, taking my forearm and dragging me towards the left wing of the mansion. He led me through a few corridors and into a small room. It took me a while to realise what it was until I saw the basin, bed and few cabinets. It was an infirmary.

"Why do you have an infirmary here?" I asked.

"When the house was full of servants an infirmary was needed," River said setting me on the bed and looking through some of the cabinets. He returned to me with a cloth, basin of water and a towel.

"Can I do it?" I asked. "Just the cleaning part?"

"No," River said, dipping the cloth in the basin of steaming water. "Look at your hands." I tilted my head down, staring at my hands. They were shaking. I tried to clench my muscles, but I only shook even more. It was uncontrollable and terrifying.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Withdrawal. You will start to become jittery and violent soon. Then you will be sick, with fever-like symptoms. It will last a day or so." As River brought the cloth close to my cheek I could smell a slightly antiseptic scent. I scrunched up my nose as River ran the cloth slowly over my cheek, just under my eye. It didn't sting as I had expected it to. In fact, it almost numbed my skin.

"What's in that water?" I asked.

"Just a herbal remedy," River answered, eyes not leaving my chin where he was now wiping dried blood away. He continued to go over my whole face, cleaning it gently and putting some sort of cream on the cuts. He was so gentle and calm. It didn't fit the nature of a monster. It didn't fit in with all the stories.

For the large cut on the side of my head River put, what looked a lot like a petal on the graze and covered it in gauze. As he finished placing the gauze on the side of my face, he slowly, absently, ran his fingers along the line of my cheek. I caught his hand before he could pull it away. River froze, realising what he'd just done. He looked carefully into my eyes and said, "I am terribly sorry, Giselle."

"What for?" I challenged.

River's lips thinned as he said, "I need to dress the wound on your scalp." I let go of his hand, but only enough so he had to slide it through my fingers to get it out. River looked disapproving before he turned quickly, rinsing out the ceramic bowls as he gathered more things. The cut on the back of my head he washed softly, a numbing sensation spreading over my scalp, then put a few stiches in, before putting the same petal on and covering it in gauze. It felt very strange in between my hair.

"Are you feeling any other pain?" River asked as he was washing up.

"I have a killer headache," I told him, getting off the bed slowly. River rustled around in some more cabinets and produced something that looked like a purple cashew.

"Take this. You will need to chew it," he told me, putting it carefully in my open palm, cautious not to touch my skin. I was tempted to grab his hand, just to tease him, but refrained. "You fell, didn't you? You should check for bruises tonight. If they are hurting a lot, put this over them." River then handed me a tube of white cream that smelt awful. "And you will need to take something for the withdrawal."

"I'm not sure if more drugs are the answer to a drug problem."

"Not drugs. Magic." River handed me a leaf. "Eat this. It should dim the symptoms. Sleep tonight. Tomorrow I will teach you how to defend yourself."

"Defend myself?" I asked. But River wouldn't tell me anything except to go to bed.

* * *

That night, apart from the dream of my prince (which had become the norm), I had another dream. Something out of the ordinary. I attributed it to my withdrawal, and the magic River had told me to eat.

_I am standing at the edge of the world. My toes dangle over the ledge. In front of me, it's dark. Behind me, I feel light touching the back of my legs. The wind takes me in its arms and plays with me. It likes me. It fights over me. I can hear cars, and feel the brush of leaves over my bare back. I'm not wearing clothes, I realise. _

_Then, I hear hounds. Dogs barking and snarling. Hundreds of them. thousands of them. They are coming from the darkness in front of me. I know the only way to escape is to fall. To fall over the edge and into the depths. I know, but I'm scared. _

_I hold my arms out, rising on my toes, tilting my head back. I will not fall. The wind will push me. I wait, breathing softly. The hounds are closer. But I know the wind will push me. Still, I wait. _

_Then, I feel a tug on my chest. And push in my back. My toes lose balance and I'm falling gracefully into the dark. The dog's barks become quieter till there is little left. They are looking for me, but they won't find me. _

_I'm still falling. I wonder what will happen at the end. I'm not scared or panicked. Then, arms curl around me and I collapse into someone. It's dark, but I realise that's only because my eyes are closed. I open my eyes to see light all around. The light frames the pale white skin that saved me. _

_Then River says, "You must be careful, Giselle. You seem a magnet for trouble." He looks into my eyes. "And I can not lose you." He leans over me, his lips almost brushing mine before–_

I woke quickly, not scared, just feeling strange. Like something was wrong. He wasn't supposed to catch me. Falling was what was saving me. I didn't understand. Most of all, because it was wrong.

And it was wrong because the River that had caught me hadn't been a prince. He'd been a monster. And it didn't seem so strange.

* * *

I'd gone to have a shower that morning, and found a note taped to the mirror. I frowned, not sure if I should be annoyed that River could get into my room without me noticing, or that he knew me too well.

It read:

Meet me at the garden entrance – the far sidewall of the ballroom.

Dress warm.

10:30

I was tired and annoyed, I didn't like secrets or surprises, and I wasn't in the mood. I'd been drenched in sweat when I'd woken, still shaking slightly, my head throbbing, like I had a hangover. I guessed it was because of the withdrawal. I checked out the damage to my face, and a few other bruises on my body that seemed to have surfaced during the night. My head was killing me, cracked dry blood still in my hair. I thought about washing it, but I was too scared that it would hurt. I took the gauze off the wounds on my face, grimacing at the pain. Both cuts were red and tender, looking swollen and bruised. But at least they weren't pussy, and they were clean and beginning to heal, rather than getting infected. I figured I had River to thank for that. I replaced the dressing with some normal bandaids, wanting to air the cuts a little.

I quickly had a shower and got ready, grabbing a snack from the kitchen for breakfast.

As I passed the hallways full of paintings of maids, I wondered if I'd been drawn yet. I wondered if the maids were only painted when they were dead. Then I wondered what River did with the bodies. Did he have some kind of graveyard in the mansion? Or were the bodies returned with the memories to the families? No, that couldn't be right.

So what did that mean? Maids were just forgotten? Forever? By everyone? Only kept alive by a sadistic monster's memory.


	12. Daggers

**11. Daggers**

"As you are a human," River began, that morning, at 10:30, "and female, brute strength is not on your side." I had to agree with that. "So, skill is what you will need to perfect."

"Okay… what sort of skill?"

"Knife throwing," River said casually, taking the box he had in his hands and setting it on a large stone. We were in the garden near the stonewall that enclosed the maze garden. I could see targets etched into the stone of the wall – I just didn't see the point of a stone target if the arrow or whatever couldn't actually pierce the stone. The large stone we were standing by had obviously been designed to hold weapons. River opened the box carefully and produced two long, sliver knives. They were fairly dull with no design, shine or edge. I have to say, I was a little disappointed. But they were long. Including the blade and handle the whole knife would have been as long as my forearm. They had an extended blade with a handle as big as the inside of my palm and hilt like a sword. They looked like medieval daggers. River took out two more strapy things from the box, and then pushed the box aside. He motioned for me to come closer to him, hands holding the strapy things.

"What are they?" I asked.

"These are the sheaths. Put out your right hand," he told me. I gave him my right arm. He pushed the sleeve back, palms brushing my skin, and then strapped the leather sheath to my arm. While he touched me, he kept his eyes down, as if uncomfortable to look me in the eye. It didn't look like the kind of sword sheaths you saw in the movies. It was really just three straps of leather that fastened across my arm with buckles. There was another piece of leather that was fastened to the first three lengthways, running up and down my arm. Once River had fastened the first three buckles he took the knife from the table and placed it on the fourth piece of leather, blade facing my hand. There were more straps that held the blade in place and protected my skin from the edge, but they seemed to be woven together sort of like a shoelace. Then, there was a last piece of leather that extended up my palm and around my middle finger. A clasp rested on the inside of my palm, over the knuckle of my middle finger. River pulled the clasp tight and fastened it with a click.

"What now?" I asked when River was done with my right arm.

"I think we will just start with one blade at the moment," he told me. "See how you cope."

"Okay, but how do I get the knife out of this?" I asked, holding up my arm to show him the contraption strapped to it. It was heavy and I felt constricted by the sticky leather. River smiled and took my hand. He pointed to the clasp that was sitting on the inside of my hand, just below my middle finger.

"See this? All you have to do is flick it up with your finger and the blade will be released."

"Really?" I asked.

"Try it. The edge is blunt, so it will not cut you."

"Okay," I said. I pulled the clasp, it didn't take much force, and I watched as the leather holding the blade snapped back, releasing the knife and sending it sliding into my palm. I tried to catch it, but it slipped through my fingers, dropping to the ground and piercing the grass, standing upright, wobbling slightly. To my surprise River laughed. The soft angelic laugh that seemed so strange paired with his coldly blue lips, pointed teeth and black tongue.

"We will need to work on that," he said. I frowned, as he picked up the knife from its position in the grass. He passed it to me, and then said, "Just wait for a moment, please." He sounded like a recording. He disappeared in magic for a few minutes, the reappeared by the wall with the stone-etched targets. Except this time he was holding a large target made of what I thought to be hay. He hung it over one of the etchings, and then returned to me.

"That is your target. We will move a little closer to make it easier for today."

"Sure." River gave a position much closer to the target and marked it with a line on the grass.

"The basics of throwing a knife, is more in the stance and preparation than the throw. A throw is meaningless if there is no aim or direction," River informed me. "Stand on a slight angle, legs apart for balance."

"Like this?" I asked, trying out what he told me.

"Yes. Now, keep your left arm to your side at the moment. With your right, I want you to bring it up, keeping your elbow in, and passing the knife just by your ear." Slowly, I brought the knife to my ear, keeping my elbow in a straight line, towards the target. "Good," River murmured. "A throw is not in the fling of the arm, but in the flick of the wrist. A controlled flick. So, I want you to throw, but only release the knife when you arm is fully extended. You need a strong flick of the wrist to get the knife spinning. Make sure you are keeping an eye on the target."

"Okay," I said, ready to throw. I pulled back and swiftly swung my arm forward, trying to flick my wrist like River showed me. To say my first throw was bad would be an understatement. To say it was disaster would be closer to the truth. Instead of the knife spinning through the air in a perfect line, like River's did, mine made a huge arc, wobbling and spinning awkwardly, before hitting the target with the butt of the knife, and so little force it didn't even mark the paint. I looked to the knife as it cluttered to the grass heavily, then at River, who seemed to find it all very amusing.

"Not bad," he said through muffled laughter. I gave him a look and his face straightened. "It was only your first try. Here. I will help you." He passed me another knife and walked to the back of me, putting one arm on my waist and the other on my throwing arm. My stomach muscles clenched and I bit my bottom lip. River didn't notice. He pulled my arm back slowly, past my right ear. I couldn't really concentrate, since his lips were next to my left ear and whispering, "Hold your body up. Stance strong. Elbow in. Take a few breaths. Yes, that is good. Now, with some power, throw the knife, only releasing it at the very last moment." River pulled my arm back and then forward. I let go with a flick of the wrist and watched as the knife sailed through the air and hit the target. Sure, it hit with the butt of the knife, and it may have been a little wobbly, but it was better. Better than my first atrocious attempt anyway.

"Better," River said softly into my ear. He still had me in his grip, our breathing in sync, his cool skin against mine. He didn't move for a long time; too long. Before I knew what was really happening, I felt River's lips brush gently along my neck, from nape to collarbone. He was still behind me so I couldn't see him, but I could feel his warm breath on my skin, giving me goose bumps and making me shiver. His hair tickled the bare skin on my shoulder, making me smile. His lips felt good on my neck, and I couldn't help thinking of my prince. I closed my eyes, imagining I was in the ballroom, adorned in my midnight blue gown, my prince dancing with me.

Suddenly, River jumped back quickly, making me open my eyes. "I… I…" River began. I turned, watching him carefully. He was standing a few metres away, hands by his sides, not looking at me. "I should not have done that," he said, shaking his head.

"I don't mind so much," I said, so softly, I could hardly hear myself.

River suddenly looked outraged. "You should mind. You should mind very much. I am dangerous, Giselle. I am not one to be attached to."

"You wouldn't hurt me," I said, even softer.

"How do you know that?" River snarled. I was taken aback by his tone. His usual coolness had gone, leaving him angry and sour. He moved closer to me and put a hand to my neck, closing a hand around my skin. "I could have you on you knees, begging for your life. I could have you on your knees, begging for death." River stared demonically into my eyes, making me feel cold. "I could have you pleading for mercy. Pleading for me to take away your memories. I could have you begging for one touch, one kiss, one last time. Begging for anything." River's hands were cold at my neck, but I refrained from reaching up to try and move them.

"I know," I told him. River growled and dropped me hard against the ground. I fell roughly, gulping back tears of pain and rejection. River turned away, walking to collect the knives I had thrown so poorly.

"You are foolish," he muttered, putting the knives away, not looking at me. I hadn't moved from my position on the floor. I was trying to stop the tears from coming, but it wasn't working so well.

"No need to be so callous," I muttered, voice breaking, as the tears began to run down my cheeks.

"It is what I am," River answered.

"No. You're not."

"And what would you know?" River asked hotly, spinning quickly. I stood, tears staining my cheeks. River's face softened when he saw me. I walked close to River, waiting for the action that would prove my point. River's shoulders slumped as he reached up and wiped the tears from my eyes so tenderly it was no more than a whisper on my cheek.

"That's what I know," I told him. River dropped his hand quickly and looked away. "You are not callous. Not really. You can pretend to be, but that doesn't mean you are."

"I am not for you, Giselle," River said softly. Then, with a swooping sound, he was gone. I gritted my teeth and picked up a knife from the bench next to me. Without any thought but frustration and anger I threw the dagger at the target. I heard a thud and looked up. Through my tears I could see the dagger quivering, embedded in the centre of the target.

* * *

Tonight the dream was different. Well, everything was the same up until the kiss. Then it changed.

_The music ends and we stop dancing. I wait in anticipation for the kiss. But this time my prince repeats those words to me first, "For now, this is all the time I can spare. But I will be waiting tomorrow." I worry I won't get to feel my prince's lips tonight, until he brings his face to mine and pulls my body into his chest. He entwines one hand in my hair and kisses me more deeply. More deeply than I have ever felt in my dreams. His arms around me tense with more pressure than I am used to and his lips massage mine with so much intensity I feel weak. Then he pulls away and is gone._

I woke gasping for air, trying to get oxygen into my lungs.

* * *

The next day River wanted to practice more. Even after the incident yesterday. He just seemed determined to give me a way to protect myself. I felt a little stupid. I was hardly worth the effort. It was obvious I had no skill in the knife thing.

Anyway, we were back in the garden, River making me throw these knives over and over again. He taught me the method and science of how to get the knife to fly in a straight line, rotating in the best possible way to maximise distance, while also making sure the blade – rather than the hilt – hit the target.

I tried, I really did, but I mostly got frustrated. River stayed patient as ever.

"River," I sighed. "I can't do this. Maybe we could try archery. I've always wanted to learn. And it'd be fun."

"And do you think it would be acceptable to carry a bow around the streets in this day and age?" River asked rhetorically.

"And what makes you think carrying knives as long as my forearm would be?"

"These can be hidden by sleeves. So unless you become magic and can glamour, a bow is not a very useful tool. And you need to be at a distance. It makes no sense for you, Giselle."

"Yeah, I get it. It's not practical, but couldn't I learn, anyway? It would be fun."

River looked at me for a moment, seeming resigned. Then he sighed and shrugged. "Fine. I guess we have the time."

River took me to the fourth floor of the west wing where the armoury was. But he didn't just take me straight to the bows. He showed me all the weapons, what they were used for and if they were suitable for me. He showed me how to use some and gave me a few demonstrations. It was the first time I'd ever seen River so… loose. He seemed almost normal. He even smiled and laughed when I tried to pick up one of the swords, finding it too heavy. The weirder thing was that, I also smiled and laughed. We did make it to the bows and he showed me the different types, cross bow, longbow and others I don't remember. He made me hold a few in a certain position to see which one fitted me. Some – most – were too heavy. Others too large, or I didn't have the strength to use them.

It was surprisingly warm in the marble room, and I took off my jumper before trying another bow. River seemed caught for a second. His mouth opened slightly, before he turned, busying himself in something else. Finally we found a bow that River decided fitted me. He gave me a case for both the bow and the arrows, and gave me careful instructions on how to care for the weapon.

"Do you look after all these weapons?" I asked.

"Yes. Of course."

"You know, I could help you. If you taught me how to service them, I'm sure I could work with you."

River frowned, looking at the floor. "No. I am fine. I enjoy what I do here."

"Okay," I nodded. "Just a suggestion." Shrugging, I began to walk away.

"Wait," River called softly. I turned. "I have something to show you." He walked away for a moment, and I could only hear his footsteps. It wasn't long after that he returned with a golden box. It would have been as long as my forearm, and half that width. As he came closer, I gasped at the beauty of it.

"Is that… gold?" I asked, in awe.

"In its most pure form," River nodded.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. The whole box had been so intricately designed I wouldn't have been surprised if the maker had gone blind with the work. The patterns were Celtic and trailed over the whole box in no real order or relationship. Embedded in the perfect gold were soft opals. Black opals, fire opals, white opals. I was in awe. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

River held it out to me.

"Are you giving this to me?" I was confused.

River nodded. "Of course, you will need to improve your skill before I let you use them. But yes. They are yours. My gift to you."

I set the box down on a bench and opened it. Inside were two beautifully engraved silver blades. The hilts had the same design and opals as the box, looking too beautiful for their purpose. I put on hand to my mouth, smiling.

I looked to River. I was surprised to feel tears in my eyes. "Thank you." I began to take my hand away from my lips, brushing past River as I did, surprised to find how close we were.

River caught my fingers. We both froze. River looked down at me, his endless eyes weighing me up. He tugged me gently towards him and my feet followed. Perhaps it was warmth in the air. Or maybe the dream last night. Or the amazing gift. I couldn't be sure, but in moments I was in River's arms. He held me like he would hold a porcelain doll, fearful of breaking me. I rested my head on his chest as River stroked my hair. I listened for a heartbeat, but from what I could tell, there was none. His breathing was soft and steady against my cheek, and he seemed so much more human in that moment than I could ever remember. River touched my chin and tilted my head towards him.

"I will never understand you, Giselle," he said softly. He sighed and released me. I was unwilling, but pulled back when River made it clear I wasn't wanted.

"I should go," I muttered and turned to leave.

And as I was walking away I heard River say under his breath, "And I should let you."

* * *

Over weeks, I practiced and practiced with the blunt blades. Once I'd mastered one hand, I mastered the other. Then I tried both. I learnt how to judge distance and what style I'd need for certain circumstances. Sometimes River would coach me, and other times I'd just spend hours throwing at targets by myself.

I also tried learning how to use the bow, but I wasn't nearly as good, and I didn't enjoy it quite as much. So mostly I stuck with my daggers. The only problem was the I never felt good enough to use the silver daggers River had given me. I was worried I would damage them. Or taint them. I wasn't sure, except that I couldn't use them. Maybe it was a fear thing.

River and I kept our distance mostly. Especially after those two days. Though, there had been a change in River. He was softer. Gentler. Kinder. I was less scared and worried of him. Instead, for him. He spent so much time locked up in the mansion it was hardly a wonder why he was so weird. I often tried to tell him this; all he said was that he couldn't leave – the iron and sun weren't good for him.

"You need company," I'd say.

"I have you," he'd reply.

I'd shake my head and say, "That doesn't count. I'm almost as unstable as you. You need to be with others who aren't… crazy."

"You're not crazy," he'd tell me, getting frustrated. Then he'd walk away and say, "You're just beautiful enough to drive someone else crazy."

Then I'd get annoyed. Frightened that the thought of him thinking I was beautiful made me feel somewhat elated.

I never told River about the engravings I'd found. The two on the hilts of the daggers he'd given me. One that said _Jocelyn_, in the same perfect etching as the stone I'd found. And the other, on the second dagger, that said my name. _Giselle_. In the same beautiful etching.

I wasn't sure if he knew I'd found them, or even expected that I'd find them. But he never brought it up, and I never said anything.

Although, there was definitely something there. Something that had meaning. Something I was too scared to think about.


	13. Angus

**12. Angus**

A few weeks later, I strapped the daggers to my arms, as I was getting ready. I wasn't sure why, except that it felt right. They made me feel beautiful, even though they were hidden behind my long sleeved jumper. River noticed.

"You are wearing them," he said when I saw him that morning.

"Yeah, they feel good."

"Of course they do." He smiled. It was small, but it was there.

"Anything you need me to do today?" I asked.

"I want you to stay away from the Natsu Court."

"Can I ask why?"

"The Queen is in a particularly bad mood lately. A few things… have not gone her way and she seems to be on a warpath. I would like you to stay low for the next few weeks. If you do not mind?"

"Not at all. I don't really fancy walking into a fey court anyway," I shrugged.

"Thank you. And the daggers are not such a bad idea at this time."

I nodded. "Can I go and get a few things from the supermarket?"

"Yes. Just keep out of any faery's way."

I smiled. "River, I already do."

I had only just shut the front door and walked past the dragons who guarded the entrance, when I felt a wind. It was icy cold, which was strange, considering it should've been going into summer. I thought about getting a coat, but decided against it. Mostly, I couldn't be bothered. I had only just begun walking down the path to the gates, when I saw a figure, maybe halfway up the drive. It was male, and he was huge. Tall, and muscular. I could see an animal following him. I was fairly sure it was a dog, but I couldn't really see what breed, except that it was also huge, as high as the man's waist.

I faltered for a second, but continued walking. I had my daggers.

When the man was a few metres away, he stopped. I followed suit, and realised he wasn't exactly a man. His hair was pitch black, and didn't stop at the nape of his neck. The hair continued down his back into the collar of his white shirt, where I could see it kept going into his black suit pants. His fame looked mildly human, except his eyes. They were yellow. Just yellow. A lot like River's marble-like blue, only this man's were yellow, and I could see into the back of his skull. His ears also weren't where they were supposed to be. They were up higher, still on the side of his head, just further up. And they were pointed, not like an elf, but more like a dog.

The dog – a hound, I noticed – stayed by the man's side, head still reaching his waist. In fact, the dog looking surprisingly like his master with the same yellow eyes and black fur.

"I seem to be crossing your path," the faery said. He smiled, showing a mouth that didn't seem to fit. His teeth were sharp and pointed, like a dog, and the saliva in his mouth was so thick I'd have thought he'd have trouble talking, but he was quite articulate. I mostly pushed it out of my head.

"Are you looking for River?" I asked, politely as I could.

"I don't wish to see him, no." His voice was rough. Like a growl. Or snarl.

"Is there something else I can help you with?"

"Perhaps." The faery looked me up and down. "You look like you want death," he stated.

I frowned. "I can get River," I offered.

"Have you ever heard that sometimes, someone can be told something, and they believe it so completely that it comes true? Like a… self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Aren't all prophecies supposed to be fulfilling?"

The faery smiled; smirked. "No. If that were true they'd be called futures. Prophecies are merely predictions." The faery seemed… almost pleased, as if he were self-gratified. "You're a smart one, aren't you? Pretty too."

I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to react in a way that could suggest something to the faery. I answered with, "I don't understand."

"Well, someone could be told they will die within two weeks, and even if they are perfectly healthy, if they believe it so completely, they look for a way for it to come true. And in the end it does."

"You mean they kill themselves?"

"No. They just die. A self-fulfilling prophecy. They died, not because they were sick, but because they believed it would happen."

"I suppose I can understand that," I said, mostly to get the conversation over with. "Can I get River for you?"

"I don't want River. It's you I want. I need to tell you something."

"Who are you?" I asked, wary of River's warning of the Natsu Queen.

The faery smirked, "You know little of the fey. I can see it in your eyes."

"Yes, and I can see the inside of your head through your eyes. Please, tell me who you are."

The faery grinned widened, and he took a step forward.

With one easy movement I flicked both the clasps on the inside of my palm. I felt the daggers sliding along my arms easily before I caught them simultaneously, the cool metal against my skin. The faery looked at me and eyed the daggers.

"A human with fey weapons," he said. "I'm intrigued. May I ask where you acquired those?"

"A friend," I answered casually. I spun the blades in my hands and caught them again, watching the light being reflected off the metal. The faery didn't seem worried, just surprised. As if he had doubted I knew how to use the weapons.

"Or a master?" the faery asked.

"Who are you?"

"Angus, of course." The faery looked down and put a hand on his dog's head. "And this is Gabriel."

"Am I supposed to know you?"

"Why, I'm the Natsu Queen's Death Faery, of course. You didn't know?"

"Death Faery?"

"Yes. I am the bearer of bad news. When I show up, someone will die. Not immediately. But soon."

"Who?"

"Oh, now, I can't tell you, can I? Then where would all the fun go?"

"Where, indeed," I muttered sarcastically. "Is it River? Does the Queen want something with River?"

"You could say that. There is a… debt to be repaid. Especially since his side of the bargain has been upheld."

"What are you talking about?"

"The curse. Surely your little friend has told you about the curse."

"What curse?"

"Oh, the poor little human is in the dark. So ironic. Well, would you mind giving your friend a message?"

I waited. "I thought you wanted to see me."

"Well, yes, it was your path I wanted to cross. I didn't want to see River."

"I don't understand."

"Tell River that one half of his curse had been fulfilled. He needs to finish off his side, and he will be free."

"Anything else?" I asked disdainfully.

"Actually, you can tell him that Lilith enjoys his choice. She thinks it's just like him."

"Angus," I heard River's voice come from behind me with a swoop. "I have not seen you for many years. Who are you killing this time?" River sounded angry, and hurt. He was standing so close behind me I could feel his body. One of his hands came around me, holding my stomach, as if protecting me.

"Please," Angus rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't kill another one of your beautiful girls. Jocelyn kept me sated for a long time."

"You should leave." River's voice was empty.

"See," Angus said in a snide voice, "I think you should leave. River Carlyter, prince of Reon, I'm telling you to go back to your little mansion and let me talk to your beautiful young human here."

River's fists clenched. Then I heard him whisper in my ear, "Use the daggers if you need to." To Angus, he said, "She gave you my full name. I should hardly be surprised. It's just like her – your Queen."

"And it's just like you to pick a fearless beauty," Angus shot back. "Now, go, little prince."

Prince? That triggered something in my brain.

"I have to leave," River whispered to me. "He has my full name. He has power over me. I'm sorry."

Then, another swooping sound, and he was gone, left alone with the dog faery.

And that was when, the dog faery, became mostly just dog. His human form twisted and cracked, bones popping and changing. I was dry retching as his body mutated and became a hound, large than I was. He barked once, at his other dog, Gabriel. Then, that dog began to split - the dog barked, and coughed out another dog – again, and again, until there were more than I could count.

Well, more than two, which happened to be the amount of daggers I had on me.

There wasn't panic, but there was fear. I thought about running, but how could I? These were dogs, tracking dogs. I hated River a little for leaving me. On the other hand, I felt like Angus had some sort of authority he couldn't control.

The dogs waited, snarling, waiting for their signal.

I held my stance, daggers in hand, ready, poised.

Angus walked forward, he pulled back on his hind legs, ready to pounce-

I was surprised when my dagger thudded into his chest.

There was a swooping sound, and River was back.

"You've lived in a court so much longer, Angus," River gloated. "I thought you of all people would be the one to lay more restraints. You told me to leave, but you did not say I could not return. And now, you can not speak."

Angus barked once, then growled, so loudly, I could have mistaken it for thunder. And the hounds descended. Angus stayed behind, wounded.

I saw the hounds advancing, but there was nothing I could really do. And I could see that.

I supposed I was going to be killed.

"You said you wouldn't kill another one," River shouted suddenly, then leapt in front of me, pushing my body behind him. "Run, Giselle."

I took those moments and did exactly as he said. I turned, and ran so fast towards the mansion the dirt I kicked up almost hurt the back of my legs.

From behind me I heard River shout, "Onyx, Orion!" I knew those names. I'd heard them before. When I'd first been with River. Near the doors. I was still running. Trying to place those names.

I wasn't sure if the snarls I could hear were close or far away, all I knew was that they were there. And that was when, in front of me, suddenly, the two stone dragons that guarded the house, came alive. They cracked and dust fell from them as they jumped away from their stone position. I remember when I'd first entered the house; I'd asked one of the stone sculptures what his name was. They'd spoken to me. Later. Onyx and Orion.

The dragons were still a stone grey, their wings membranous, and scales glittering with crystals. They leapt up into the air as their wings caught the wind. They each did a circle over my head, looking at me carefully, as if inspecting me. Their eyes were so real it scared me; one had the eyes of deep emerald, the other of ruby. Then they flew away, to the fight I assumed.

When I reached the door, panting heavily, I turned, and saw a sight that almost crippled me.

River was fighting off as many of the hounds as he could, but he was still being mauled. The dragons were attacking some of the dogs from the air, but they were no match for the number. River had risked his life for me, and I was just running. "River," I breathed.

Then I saw Angus. He was sitting, licking his wound, back from the crowd. That's what I could do. I readied myself, taking in everything for the prefect throw.

And… the dagger hit him between the eyes.

He didn't die, but I hardly expected him to. If a dagger in the chest didn't do anything except hurt him, I doubted one in the head would kill him.

But it did essentially what I wanted it to. Angus cried out, and his hounds replied. In fact, they went to their wounded master, and picked him up, carrying him as a team.

It was one of the most bizarre sight's I'd ever seen.

The last of the dogs scampered away, leaving River, bleeding into the wind. I watched for a moment, before running to him. Onyx and Orion, which had been circling above, landed, waddling awkwardly towards River and I. He looked mangled, and was bleeding from wounds – teeth marks – all over his body. But the weirdest thing, his blood was burning through his clothes. It was acid. Oh, and it was blue. A deep azure blue. I went to his side, careful to not touch his blood.

"Do not worry. My blood can not burn you," he croaked. "Your blood is similar."

"How?" I asked.

"Magic begins with blood, remember. Our blood, it is not natural anymore. It has been tainted. Becomes acidic."

One thought came to me, above all else. I was more similar to River than I was to my own human family.

"Then let's get you inside," I said, trying to ignore the possibility that my blood might turn blue.

"Thank you," River said, licking his lips. "Onyx, Orion, you can return," he said to his dragons. They both gave a nod, and flew back to the stone stairs of the mansion, sitting, a thin film of glamour reappearing over them. River closed his eyes and I crouched, putting an arm underneath his shoulder blades and slinging a bloody arm around my neck. I stood slowly, letting River get to his feet. He leant his weight on me as I struggled to stay upright.

Slowly we made our way to the house, River's blood singeing my clothes. When we got inside I made straight for the infirmary. I laid River's limp body down on the bed, and shifted him so he was lying straight.

"I'm fine now," he mumbled. "You can leave me."

"I'm just going to get the blood off you," I told him softly. I took some warm water from the tap and found a small towel. Moving to the side of his bed I set the water down and slowly removed River's shirt, which was practically hanging off him anyway. First I washed his face, making my way down his neck and chest, finishing with his arms and hands. His body was so perfectly rippled with muscles I kept biting the inside of my lip like a nervous habit. River's eyes stayed closed.

I cleaned up, throwing away the towel that was now little more than singed scraps. I thought River had fallen asleep. But as I turned to leave the room, River whispered, "Do not go." He must have heard the order in his voice because he corrected himself and said, "Please. I feel better when I am in your presence."

So I stayed. I pulled up a chair and sat beside River's bed. I took some bandages and wrapped up a few really bloody areas, just hoping his blood wouldn't destroy them within seconds. They held for long enough.

River's eyes stayed closed. "Can you talk to me?" he asked.

"About what?"

"Your childhood. Tell me how you grew up. What made you become Giselle?"

I laughed softly. "Many things." I tried to think of a specific memory. "Well, there was this one time – I would have been seven or eight, Adam a little older – and Dad enrolled me in basketball. Mum wanted me to dance – ballet – but I'd hated it, so finally she relented and let Dad take me to a basketball game. Anyway, I'd been to a few training sessions and learnt how to throw, catch and dribble. That wasn't so hard. But I couldn't shoot. Not to save my life. I was terrible. We had a basketball ring in our driveway because Adam also played, and I was there practicing. Still, I just couldn't get it in. I couldn't get that ball through that ring. And I didn't understand why not. It was Adam who came out, saw me almost in tears and coached me. He told me how you had to aim for the little square of the backboard and how I needed to bend my knees and jump. He taught me where to put my hands on the ball, throw from one hand, rather than two, and how I had to follow my arm through and finish off the throw. The most important thing he said I must do, was always look at the ring. See where I wanted the ball to go and imagine the flight path. Then I had to make sure it did what I imagined. I got it in, in one shot. Adam was so proud." I paused. "Then he realised he liked girls and didn't have time to coach me anymore. Not that I need it now. I can beat him in one on one. And he's a foot taller."

I finished the story and River was silent.

Until, "Do you hate me?"

A pause.

"Yes."

River opened his eyes.

"But you also…" His unasked question hung in the air.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I know."

"Did Angus say anything to you?"

"Yes. He told me to give you a message."

River frowned, and tried to sit up. I pushed him back. My hands stayed on his chest for a moment, River looked down at them, we paused, and then I pulled away. "What was the message?"

"Something about half of the curse being fulfilled, and you having to finish of the rest to be free. I didn't really know what he was talking about."

River's face became flat. He stared at the ceiling. "Go."

"Are you okay?" I asked. I put a hand on his face.

"Go!" he shouted, pushing me away.

I stumbled back, suddenly angry. "Fine. Fine. Be a sour lonely man. I'm used to it."

* * *

Tonight the dream was even stranger. Not strange – I guess it was always headed the way it did – just different.

_This time my prince doesn't disappear after the kiss; he takes my hand and leads me, stumbling away, to his room. We don't speak anymore than we had in any other dream, except this time there is a sense of anticipation. We reach my prince's room and he takes me in his arms, tracing the line of my lips with his soft fingers. Then he kisses me again, my knees feeling weak. He steers me towards the bed and lays me gently down, placing his toned body over mine. But something is wrong. This isn't how it happens. I am sure of it. Then a thought strikes me. And it hits me with such a force my breath is knocked out of me. _

_What about River?_

_River. The hideous monster. Why am I even thinking about him at this time? What compels me to picture his face in my mind? Why can't I even enjoy a dream such as this without thinking about him?_

"_What is it, my love?" My prince asks me. My love? We had danced but there was nothing more. What love?_

"_No," I say suddenly. I want to get out of here. _

"_Shh," my prince soothes. _

"_No," I say. "Let me up." When did this dream so quickly become a nightmare?_

"_As you wish," my prince says, sadness in his eyes. I stand quickly, but don't leave. _

"_Who are you?" I ask. _

"_I am River Carlyter, prince of Reon," he says, looking at me strangely, as if I should know this information. _

"_And I?" I ask. _

"_You are my beauty," he says lovingly. _

"_What prince?" I ask. "I don't understand."_

"_I take the throne when I come of age. You know this, my dear Jocelyn. You are one of the most beautiful women. And so, you deserve the most beautiful man." He is obviously talking about himself. It is so strange that this River was so… conceited. The River I know has always been terribly honest. And who is Jocelyn? Did this have something to do with the memorial stone in the garden? But this doesn't make sense. This is a dream. How come I have thoughts and feelings? I can influence this dream. I am not being led in this dream. I am leading it. I decide to try a new tactic. _

"_And what made you ugly?" I ask. My prince's face twists at those words. _

"_I do not have a temper," he says, a little louder than before. "I am not vain or conceited." His voice keeps getting louder. I am not sure who or what he was shouting at, but I have a feeling it isn't me. "I do not have a temper! I am not impatient." The dream changes so quickly it scares me. My prince's face twists and morphs. It morphs into something undisguisable. Into the pale, deathly monster I am used to. And beside him stands a young woman, with looks to destroy the devil himself. _

_She has skin like porcelain and golden brown hair that is braided all the way down her back. Each strand looks like fine ribbon, glinting off the candlelight. She has a flash in her eyes – they are black – that looks like a child's sadistic game. She wears very little. Nothing more than pieces of floaty blue silk. _

_She eyes River carefully and says, in a voice that is sickly sweet floral, "You were once beautiful, but no more. You will no longer use your looks to destroy the hearts of women and heads of men. You will wait, for all eternity, for your temper to subside, your impatience to leave you and your selfishness to disappear. You will remain cursed until you are able to find a woman to fall in love with you – your inner self – even though you are hideously ugly. When that happens, and she declares her love for you, you must kill her, freeing yourself from your curse."_

I woke, mostly confused, trying to piece together information that was in pieces. The curse. The queen. Angus and death. Me. Jocelyn. It was connected, and somewhere in my brain it was there. But at the moment, it wasn't working.

There was something, and it was real. More than a dream. Magic.


	14. Fascination

**I will give a little explanation, because in this chapter Giselle meets a human girl - she may seem to have little relevance to the story, but I can tell you this is the main character of my other story, _The Girl Behind the Glamour, _and they interconnect. If you want to know what it is that River gives Lise, then you'll have to read the other story :). It also gives a view of Giselle from an outsider, which some might find interesting...**

**

* * *

13. Fascination**

There was a knock at the door sometime after lunch a few days later, the sound reverberating throughout the house. River wouldn't get it. I would. Of course I would. I took my time, getting through the house to the front lobby. I assumed it would be some sort of faery or creature looking for River. For a magical cure. A magical power. It was always magical. I hated it.

Instead of the faery face I expected as I opened the door, I met the eyes of a human girl. She was pale, her eyes sunken in her face, looking gaunt. Long dirty blonde hair that fell about her shoulders and contrasted her soft, wavy green eyes. She wore ripped jeans that trailed behind her, covered in dirt and dust, and a loose – obviously second hand – t-shirt that had a promotional logo on it. She was pretty, but she looked as if she were homeless, and possibly affected by drugs. An old leather jacket, which looked like a man's, was thrown over her shoulders. Patches had been cut out, stained and burnt. She was my age, but so unlike me. She looked strong, and hardened, as if she'd endured things and not caved like I had. I hated myself even more. This girl would never end up in a situation like this. Wanting a faery she could never have.

"I need help," she told me. Her voice was rusty, like a heavy smoker's might be. She had a dirty red ribbon tied around her neck, a rusty silver wire around her wrist that sat just above a tattoo that said _Lise_ in a delicate font, and mismatched earrings in her ears.

I nodded, not saying anything, waiting.

"I'm looking for River. I've heard that he has the power to help me," she finished.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Lise."

"I'm Giselle." I turned, beckoning her to follow. "Do you have…?"

"The Sight?" she finished. "Yeah."

"I see." I nodded. So did that mean she'd be as screwed up as me?

"Why are you here?" she asked, hesitant, as if she was unsure if she was being rude.

"I work for River," I told her.

"By choice?" She sounded amazed.

"Hardly," I muttered. I could almost hear the pity coming off her. She knew what had happened. She'd guessed. I wondered if pleading for her to save me would help. But grovelling rarely did.

I led Lise through the many halls of the palace, each one decorated with paintings of the maids, or landscapes seen through the glazed glass of my bedroom. I took Lise to a drawing room in the back of the house where I knew River would be, knocking before entering. The girl seemed hardly amazed by the house, but then I'm not sure why that surprised me. I'd guessed she'd been seeing the sinister beauty of the faery world for longer than I had.

"This is Lise," I told River, Lise standing behind me "She needs help." I moved and Lise caught sight of the River. She seemed interested, as she looked River up and down. No fear or panic or shock registered on the girl's face. I wasn't sure if I should be worried of that or not.

"Lise," the River extended his hand. "I am River."

Lise took his hand. "Yes, I know."

"Giselle," River said, looking at me as he sat, gesturing for Lise to sit in the chair opposite, "perhaps you could get us some refreshments."

"Oh, no," Lise shook her head. "I don't eat fey food." This surprised me. Why wouldn't she eat fey food?

River gave a soft laugh. "I do not eat fey food either. Giselle will prepare human food. You have no need to worry."

"I see," Lise answered. That was my que to leave.

I went to the kitchen and just grabbed some snacks, too lazy to make anything nice. I arranged them on a serving tray, and then got a quick drink of water. The arrival of Lise had somewhat shaken me. The faery world was so much more than I knew. I could see that. This girl, she was so different to anything I knew. She understood the faery world. But there was one thing we had in common. She resented fey, just like I did. A reoccurring pattern.

I walked back to the drawing room River and Lise had been in. As I entered, River stood. He regarded me for a moment and Lise looked uncomfortable. I looked up and River caught each my gaze. A look of pain washed over River quickly and left just as fast. I could have easily persuaded myself to believe it wasn't there at all. I felt sick. Sick to know how much I wanted him. It was so pathetic. I was nothing more to him than a slave. And I hated myself for wanting any more than that. How could a human fall for a faery? I wondered what Lise would think.

The moment passed and I waited. River handed Lise a sheet of paper. I wasn't sure what would be on it, but I didn't really care. I didn't want to know.

"This is where you must go. If no one is there, follow any trail you can find. You will not receive your payment without any information," River told her. Information? Information I couldn't get? Or perhaps information he didn't want me to get.

"I understand. Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet. I have not given you anything except an address." River paused, looking at me. I figured I wasn't supposed to be in the room. My posture was stiff, and I kept my eyes on the painting on the wall. Just another maiden. "Giselle, could you please lead our guest out. This place can be a trap."

"Don't I know it," I muttered under my breath.

River turned his head sharply, but didn't say anything.

"Thanks," Lise said again, to no one really. I left the room, not looking back to see if Lise were following.

"Why weren't you scared of him?" I asked as I guided Lise out of the house.

"I've seen a lot worse than him," she told me. This girl obviously was only a little saner than I was. I mean, she was visiting scary monsters as if it were a normal thing.

"You've had the Sight forever?" I guessed.

Lise nodded. "My mother and grandfather killed themselves because of it." Okay, this girl had obviously been through a lot. Having the Sight really messes people up. I was evidence enough of that.

"I had fey blood injected into me. I have the Sight by accident. My human sight was stolen from me," I said. I didn't look at her and kept my voice monotone.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I."

"Perhaps, now that you have the Sight, I could give you some… tips, on the fey world," Lise offered.

I stopped, turning, considering her carefully. "Why?" Why would this girl want to help me? I'm nothing short of pathetic, and trapped.

"It's the only way I can think to help," Lise answered honestly. I nodded slowly. "Well," she began, "fey don't like iron. It will kill them. They can't lie. They can trick and deceive, but not lie. It often makes them more dangerous. Fey food will also kill. Humans can't eat it. You will become trapped if you do-"

"Am I not already trapped?" I said tonelessly. Still, what she'd said explained some things. Why River had trouble leaving the iron confines of his mansion.

"Well, you eat fey food and the fey have complete control over you. It would be worse than now."

I bobbed my head. "Anything else?"

"Dancing with faeries can be dangerous. They will often dance with humans till death. Though usually those with the Sight are affected less. And, faeries dislike humans immensely. Usually they are used as toys. Or more accurately, amusement." I'd danced with River in my dreams and almost in reality. Somehow I felt like River wasn't the same as most fey.

"Yes, I'm entirely aware of that." Again, I was toneless.

Lise looked scared for me. "Has River ever…?" She couldn't bring herself to say it. I knew what she meant though. Had he raped me?

My gaze flicked up. "No. Only in my nightmares."

We were back in the foyer and I nodded towards the huge wooden doors.

"I'll be back soon." Lise said it as if she were reassuring me. There was little reassurance from a human girl who had the Sight. I nodded.

"Be… safe. This is Natsu Court territory. Don't piss off any faery. I've heard the Natsu Queen isn't forgiving. Especially at the moment."

"Yeah, I know," Lise said as she pushed the door open. "I've met her.'

This startled me. Lise had definitely led a more faery orientated life.

I walked back to the drawing room, finding River still there, reading in the same armchair. He looked up at me and looked to the dishes. I moved to them.

"I am going to get something from south wing."

I nodded. "Do you need anything from me?"

"No. Except that after that I am going to sleep," River informed me as I cleared away his dishes. "Lise will return soon. There is no need to wake me, I should be awake by that time."

I nodded. River paused, looking at me carefully, then left the room.

Later, I stepped into his room and closed the door gently behind me. River was sprawled out on the bed like a peaceful, hideous doll. I imagined that it was my prince instead of a monster and I couldn't help but move closer to the bed. When I was standing over him, I projected the image of my prince onto his face. It matched so perfectly I had to touch his face to make sure it was real. As soon as my hand felt the scratchy skin, the illusion was ruined. River woke so quickly, I almost cried out. He grabbed my hand and sat up, eyes unfocused and confused.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, alert.

"No," I told him softly. He frowned, letting go of my hand and rubbing his face roughly. I wasn't sure what had compelled me to go into his room. It was stupid.

"What are you doing? You startled me."

"I'm sorry," I said. River looked at me, sitting up and beginning to get out of bed. His chest was bare and I could see all the outlines of the veins in his pale skin and the contours of his muscles. He still had some raw red teeth marks from the hounds. River stood and moved to a chest of drawers, removing a shirt and slipping it over his head.

"You should not be here," he said, not facing me. He leant forward on the chest of drawers, his hands holding him up, the muscles in his arms all the more visible.

"I know," I answered.

"Then why are you?"

"Because… I wanted to see you."

"Giselle," River sighed, finally turning around to face me. He leant back on the chest of drawers and ran a hand through his hair. "This… fascination is not good for you. It is dangerous."

"River, you can't tell me you don't want it too," I said.

"That is beside the point!" River yelled suddenly, startling me. "What I want does not mean anything. There have been many things I have wanted and could not have over the years. I will not take advantage of you."

"But you wouldn't be."

"Yes, I would. You, Giselle, are not mentally stable. You may think you are, but you are not. You want to be with a monster." River laughed bitterly. "That is not normal."

"So you're saying you don't want me because I'm crazy?"

"No, I am saying I am not going to take advantage of you."

"You aren't taking advantage of me. River, my life has sucked for a long time. But when you're nice to me… well, things suck a little less." I moved closer to River. He wouldn't meet my gaze.

"I was the one who made your life… suck," he said, tasting the strange word in his mouth.

I took his hand and placed it on my face. "And I'm dealing with it the only way I know," I answered.

"You shouldn't have to 'deal with it'." River sighed and looked at me carefully. I dropped my hand from his, his marble blue eyes holding me. His cold, scratchy hand touched my temple, fingers light as a whisper on my cheek. He ran his hand along the side of my face, to my lips, where he traced the shape with care. He moved his fingers away from my lips, running them along my jaw, down my neck, resting on my collarbone. The coarseness of his fingers tickled me lightly, making me shiver.

"Are you cold?" River asked, not moving his had from my neck.

"No," I said.

"You are too beautiful," Rive said softly, his face leaning into mine. He touched my eyebrows, then my eyelids and the top of my cheekbones. "Your hair." He felt it carefully, letting some slip through his fingers. "Copper – the scent of dusk," he murmured, breath on my forehead. "Your skin." River played his fingers over my forehead. "Fair – the shine of moonlight." Then he ran two fingers over my nose and back to my lips. "Your eyes are almost silver. And your lips…" River sighed. "Your lips are too tempting."

"Tempting?" I questioned.

"I have not held a woman in my arms for many years. And your lips tempt me so. Tempt me too much."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I do not hurt maids I keep. I cannot force them to do such a thing. Something that would repulse them so."

"And if I told you it wouldn't repulse me. That you wouldn't be forcing me."

"I would ask you not to tempt me any more. My control is worn thin just by being with you, Giselle."

"Then don't worry about it," I said softly, River looked at me desperately, as if to say, _please don't make me do this, even if I sincerely want to. _I tilted my head toward him, encouraging him. River's head bent toward me, blue lips brushing over mine. I responded a little too enthusiastically, pressing my body on River and opening my mouth for him. River's hands suddenly tightened on me. It was now obvious he hadn't kissed – or touched – a woman in a long time. He might have been magic, but he still had male instincts. Instincts that were deeply ingrained. I pressed on River harder, deepening the kiss as far as he would let me. I felt River's body shudder against me, and I relinquished in his touch. His hands grabbed me by the neck and held tight. I knew River was fairly new – or perhaps he'd been out of practice – to this, so I was the one to move my lips from his mouth and to his neck, down to his collarbone. River groaned and his fingers tightened on my waist and back.

Then, he pulled back abruptly. "No," he said, pushing me away, breaths coming deep and uneven.

"Why?" I asked, rejection stinging my eyes and making them fill with tears.

"Because I told you, I do not force myself – what I am – on others. It is wrong." River pushed me away gently. "You deserve – as the others did – more than me. So much more. It is not fair for me to do this to you. To anyone."

"Is it so hard to believe that I want you for what you are?" I asked, suddenly frustrated. River's head snapped up in such a quick moment it almost scared me.

"Do not say that," River said abruptly, pushing me away.

"Why? It's the truth."

"Go away, Giselle."

"Huh?"

"Go back to your room."

"I-"

"I said, go!" River almost yelled. I stumbled away from him, embarrassed and ashamed. Then, there was a knocking at the door. I jumped. River sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I am sorry I yelled. Just get the door, Giselle. It will be Lise. I will be waiting in the west wing."

I nodded, almost running out of the room and to the front door, which wasn't all that far away.

I opened the door, Lise standing on the doorstep.

"Couldn't stay away?" I tried to joke. It sounded wrong. I wondered what I looked like to this girl.

"Don't mean to be rude, but I don't have much time. Please." Lise looked a little scared. I suppose that was why she was here. For help.

I just nodded, not saying anything. I turned and once again led Lise through the labyrinth of halls and rooms. I took her to a room much closer to the entrance, but again, it was a small drawing room. River was sitting in a large armchair, a small glass bottle placed on the coffee table in front of him. The liquid inside was a vile black, almost looking like syrupy ink. But, even though the black was viscous and thick, rainbow colours filtered through in the light, just like an oil slick, the magic making me dizzy.

"I have held my end," River said, nodding at the vile in the table, "now you must hold yours."

"I found out…" Lise paused, checking to see if I was behind her. I turned, knowing this was not a conversation I was allowed in on. As I was walking away I heard River say,

"She has gone to her room. Please, continue."

"Giselle," I heard River call softly from somewhere by the path. I stepped out of the garden and into view. River's expression looked pained, his ridged eyebrows coming together, deathly blue lips pursed. I'd been under the shade of the rainforest of trees in the garden reading. It was late, and I thought River had wanted me to come inside, but he seemed too worried for that to be the case.

"What's wrong?" I asked. His posture was stiff and rigid. Out of habit my jaw clenched just a little in anticipation. I walked up the path standing a few feet away from River, not sure what to do with my hands. I closed the book I was reading and held with both hands, just so I had something to do.

"Your brother is sick," River said stiltedly. I felt my expression go blank. My mind went into shut down mode as it subconsciously withdrew all the memories of my family. My hands clenched on the spine of my book.

"Why are you telling me?" I asked.

"You needed to know."

"No. I didn't. I don't. I don't need updates. I don't want to know." I felt something beginning to crack inside of me. I did want updates. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to know if my mother still wore the pearls I gave her when I came back from my beach trip with Mix. I wanted to know if Adam still spent all his time flirting, dumping or talking to girls. I wanted to know whether my dad still teased us – Adam – about our – his – love lives – life.

No! I had blocked out those memories for so long. I had done well. I hadn't dreamt about them for so long. The burning in my lungs and stinging behind my eyes was leaving. I was getting better.

"Yes, Giselle, you do want to know," River told me. The barrier holding up my questions and memories was breaking. No, no, no. "And you need to know-"

"No," I said so softly it was barely more than an exhale of breath. My hands went limp and I dropped my book, it landing face down, pages bending in the dirt. River took a step towards me, ignoring my book, and taking my hands into his. The scratchiness of his skin was soothing.

It scared me. It scared me how much I wanted him – and how much I knew it.


	15. Release

**14. Release**

"I am sorry," he said, looking at my hands, rather than my face. He began to play with my fingers, tracing patterns on my palm. River hadn't show such intimacy with me before – even when I'd practically asked for it – and it made me feel a little dizzy. River suddenly seemed to realise what he was doing and dropped my trembling hands.

"Don't," I said, annoyed with myself at the way I resigned in his touch. He looked at my face and sighed that sigh. That you-are-an-immature-mentally-unstable-hormonal-teenager-who-doesn't-need-encouragement sigh. That's why I was surprised when he did take my hands again, squeezing them gently.

"Your brother is very sick, Giselle. He is in hospital. They do not know what is wrong with him. They think it is some sort of virus, but are unsure. He is not doing very well." I heard the words River hadn't said. _They think your brother might die._ I wasn't entirely sure what happened next except that one second I was standing, and the next I was in River's arms, the whole world spinning in a mess of green leaves and blue eyes. I could imagine my brother in hospital. I could imagine my little mother sitting beside the bed holding his hand while my father stood on the other side of the room, pacing or reading, seeming calm even though he was dying inside. And I could see Adam's face, pale, gaunt and groggy.

Angus had told me. Angus had said someone would die. It was going to be Adam. Adam would die. It wasn't River, because he survived the attack. It wasn't me. It was Adam. Adam was going to die. And it was my fault.

It killed me. But what killed me more was the place I knew I should be. I knew I should be in that hospital. I should be making those coffee runs. I should be making sure Mum remembered to sleep and Dad remembered to eat. I should have been talking to Adam during those times he woke up in the dead of night in pain. I saw the hospital room in my mind and knew I belonged there. And as soon as I realised this, the barrier I had so perfectly put up, fell. And it fell with bravado.

Memories came flooding back with such force it knocked the breath out of me, making me shake as I tried to breathe. The burning in my lungs returned with the stinging in my eyes making tears leak out. I tried to get out of River's arms, pushing him away, but I wasn't even sure which way was up. River let me flail until I had lost my balance and toppled again, which was when River caught me, sweeping me up in his arms and walking towards the house. I couldn't see anything through the tears and I hated River. I hated him for abducting me. I hated him from taking my family away. I hated him for telling me my brother was dying. I hated that I still wanted him.

I curled up into a ball in his arms, my hands wrapped tightly around his neck as I sobbed into his chest. I wasn't sure where the time went, but before I knew it I was being placed gently on my bed, the blue marble of my room making me feel safe. River tried to untangle me from him, but I was adamant. In the end River relented and placed me on the bed, lying beside me. I huddled up against his chest, holding his shirt tightly. He began to slowly stroke my hair with one hand, letting my tears soak his clothes. When my sobs had slowed and my breathing had returned to a partially normal rate, River's fingers began to unconsciously trail over my cheek and jaw. I closed my eyes, just enjoying the feel of his skin against mine. Neither of us spoke for a long time. I was glad. I didn't want to ruin this moment. And when someone spoke I would be brought back to reality. The reality where I was in the arms of a monster – and enjoying it – while my brother died in hospital.

I opened my eyes at the thought. No, I couldn't think about them anymore. I would put my barrier back up and never think of them again. I wasn't going back to them. They didn't even know who I was.

"You need to rest, Giselle," River said softly, turning his head so his lips hovered just over mine.

"No," I told him. I couldn't. I would dream of them. I knew it. And I didn't want it.

"Please," River pleaded gently.

"I'll have nightmares." I titled my head towards him, letting our lips touch just barely, as I looked into his marble stone blue eyes. I felt River's gulp as his arms tightened on me.

"Not now, Giselle," River said, closing his eyes. But he didn't turn his head away. His lips were still hovering millimetres over mine. "You are scared and upset, this would not do well for you."

"If you hadn't wanted to do this to me, you shouldn't have told me," I said, almost irritated.

River opened his eyes, looking hurt. "You deserved to know, Giselle."

"I don't want to know."

"I could not hide this from you. Not something like this. It is not right."

"Unless you are going to let me go, I don't want you to tell me these things. They just…" I couldn't finish because of the burning in my lungs.

"Giselle," River said with such emotion it scared me. He looked and sounded like he was hurting. Did that mean he did care about me after all?

His lips came down on mine with a sudden urgency that I wasn't ready for. I melted away into my own world as his kiss deepened, sending my mind to a strangely happy place. River wound his hands around my neck, into my hair, holding me tightly. He rolled slowly, pressing his body over mine and running his hands over the shape of my breasts, stomach, hips and thighs. He grabbed the top of my thigh and pulled it up so he was holding my knee to his side. My arms slid their way down his sides and pressing against the small of his back. I found the end of his shirt and began playing my fingers on his bare skin underneath the fabric while River continued to kiss me.

I thought of my first dreams of River – the nightmares – and this seemed so different. River wasn't cold and callous; he was soft and caring. I wasn't sure how long we stayed kissing. River's mouth on the edge of my jaw, on my chin, on the space just below my ear, on my neck, on the vein I could feel pulsing with each breath, on my collarbone, on the freckle near my cleavage, in the cleft of my breasts, on the bottom of my ribs, on the delicate skin above and below my belly button, on my hip bone, on the inside of my thighs, on the back of my knee, on the bone of my ankle. He was exploring my body. A body that I assumed had been fairly foreign to him for a long time.

I wasn't sure when we both removed our clothes, but suddenly they were gone. We weren't under the covers of my bed, simply on top of them, River touching each part my body slowly and carefully, as if to memorise it. I traced over the blue veins in his white skin with my fingers, lips and tongue. I felt the calluses on his hands and neck and ran my hands over his smooth, muscled chest.

There wasn't sex, but there didn't need to be. I pressed my ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat. I heard our breathing falling in time with each other as if time itself had stopped. And for the first time I felt the throb of his heart.

I smiled and whispered, "You're alive." For some reason this woke River up. He pushed himself off me, looking carefully at me. His face went through shock, pain and realisation all within a second. He pushed away from me so roughly I was unsure of what had happened. River began collecting his clothes, putting them on too quickly.

"This…" he began. His hands were trembling and he was moving around the room like he was trying to find something to do. He threw on his pants and began looking for something else to distract him.

"What's wrong?" I murmured.

"I can not do this, Giselle. This… it is not right."

"Why?" I asked, sitting up slowly and bringing my feet to the floor.

"I am using you, Giselle. Can you not see that? It is wrong. I am taking advantage of you. You are upset and angry. You need rest, not what I was trying to force on you."

"You weren't forcing anything on me," I told him as I stood and made my way to where he was desperately trying to avoid my gaze by looking for his shirt.

"You are not healthy, Giselle. I just told you your brother is dying and you react by almost letting me steal your virginity. That is not right of me and not a normal response from you." I grabbed River's hands to make him stop moving.

"Who said I was a virgin?" I asked. River finally made eye contact.

"That would not matter…" He trailed off and looked at me carefully. "You are not a virgin?" he asked, almost looking hurt. Actually, I was. Sure, I had messed around with guys before, but I had never actually slept with them. Most of them were too sleazy or too possessive for me too ever want to sleep with them. I'd never really felt like I wanted to sleep with any of them. I guess I'd been waiting. I'd never have thought River would be the one who I'd desperately want so much from.

"And if I weren't?" I tested. River shook off whatever he was feeling and said,

"It still wouldn't matter. I cannot take advantage of you like this. It is not fair on you." I watched him carefully as he waited for my argument. I didn't say anything. Instead I leaned forward and kissed him softly on the V of his collarbone.

"I am, you know," I said as River took me in his arms.

"What?"

"A virgin. You looked so scared when you thought I wasn't," I smiled.

"Well… I grew up in a time when women stayed a virgin till marriage. It was impure not to. If you did you were gossiped about; people assumed you were a whore."

"Would you have thought I was whore if I'd had sex before marriage?"

"My thoughts of you would not have changed," River sighed.

"You said women. Didn't this rule apply to men?" I asked. I felt River flinch, and I pulled away to look at him.

"Men were able to have… relations with paid women until they got married."

"Prostitutes?"

"Essentially."

"Did you?"

"It wasn't out of the normal," River sighed. "And I was probably the most-" He cut himself off, making me wonder what he was going to say. He was the most horny (although River would never say that), desperate, sex driven?

"Yes?" I prompted.

"I was probably the most adored. I was a prince. I had lots of wealth. And… I was very handsome. And with status, wealth and looks came women. It is how the world works." River laughed bitterly. I was frozen to the spot. A prince. A handsome prince. A rich handsome prince. My prince. The dream. That dream.

"You were once beautiful, but no more. You will no longer use your looks to destroy the hearts of women and heads of men. You will wait, for all eternity, for your temper to subside, your impatience to leave you and your selfishness to disappear. You will remain cursed until you are able to find a woman to fall in love with you – your inner self – even though you are hideously ugly. When that happens, and she declares her love for you, you must kill her, freeing yourself from your curse."

"Tell me," I said softly.

River looked at me carefully, eyes inquisitive. Then he pushed me away and put his head in his hands. "I have not spoken of that time. To anyone. Ever."

"You were human. Weren't you?"

"Yes. I was. Once. Thousands of years ago."

"Prince of Reon."

"Yes," River said, his head snapping up.

"And you were betrothed. To a very beautiful woman. Jocelyn."

"Yes… how… how do you know this?" River looked hurt and… scared. I'd never seen him scared before.

"Remember when I told you about the dream of a prince when I was humming that melody in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"Well… this dream… it was you. Well, not really. I mean, it was you, but it was a different you. A human. You called me Jocelyn and we danced to that melody."

"That was a melody I composed for her… Jocelyn," River said slowly.

"Is she…?" I trailed off, letting my unsaid question hang in the air.

"Yes," River said stiffly. "She died a long time ago. She was human."

"Angus killed her. That's what he was talking about."

"Yes. He is a death faery. He came to me and told me someone would die. A few weeks later, she died. I had been watching her ever since I had become… this."

"What happened?" I asked. River turned away and took a deep breath. I took the chance to slip a t-shirt over my head and pull on some jeans. River turned to face me again, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I was only young, but was to take the throne from my father, because he was sick and could not really govern anymore. But in order to take the throne I needed to have a wife. A queen. Suitors came from all over Reon to have a chance at becoming my queen. Like I said, I was rich, powerful and handsome. And this is what made me conceited, impatient and ill tempered. I broke many women and their families. And I destroyed men with jealousy. I was a vindictive foolish child. I enjoyed the attention I got. I enjoyed the maliciousness. I felt enjoyment from other's pain."

River stopped, taking a breath. He sat at the large mahogany chair at my desk and sunk back. I sat on my bed, crossing my legs and leaning against the bed head.

"No woman was good enough for me. Too short. Too tall. Too thin. Too fat. Too talkative. Too shy. Too defiant. Too obedient. Too… well, I always managed to find a flaw. My parents got so frustrated they threatened to refuse the crown to me and give it to my younger brother. This was an empty threat because he was only twelve. So I continued to be the cruel, selfish child I was. And then I met Jocelyn. She was so beautiful it hurt. She… you remind me of her."

River looked at me to gauge my expression. I kept my face blank and waited for him to continue.

"She had silky black hair and chocolate skin with the most luscious lips I have ever seen. One smile and she had me on my knees. And not many girls had me falling at their feet. She was kind and caring with two little brothers she adored. She was so much cleverer than all the other girls I had met and she had a charm that made me want to… protect her. I had never felt that for someone before. And I did want to marry her. So I pursued her. Whether she liked me or not, did not really matter. Her parents approved, so soon our engagement was announced. Everything worked out well. My parents liked Jocelyn and her mother and father. She came from a wealthy family and their status was well known. We were a perfect match."

River stood, paced a few times, wringing his hands.

"Come here," I said softly. He looked up, then at my open hand inviting. He looked as if he was going to protest, until he sighed in resignation and took my hand, sitting next to me, entwining his fingers in mine.

"It all went well until a few nights before the wedding and my coronation. A fair came to our city. A circus, if you will. As was custom, the top performers performed for the royal court while we had a feast. I had hardly even thought of other women while I was with Jocelyn and I was convinced I would be happy in the marriage. Now that I look back on it… I think I might have loved her. I just could not admit it. I did not like the thought that I would be confined to only one woman for the rest of my life. I was still a frivolous child. Jocelyn deserved more."

River sighed again. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing slowly. He ran a hand through my hair.

"Anyway, there was one performer – an dancer – who danced with such grace and beauty I forgot about Jocelyn for the few minutes she was dancing. I was awed. She had skin like porcelain and golden brown hair that was braided all the way down her back. I had only seen a few foreigners with pale skin and thought all of them were pasty, but this woman looked like she glowed. She had curves to drive any man mad and a glint in her eyes – they were black – that made you think about things you thought were not capable. She wore scarce clothing. Nothing more than pieces of floaty blue silk.

My eyes did not leave her all night. She danced as if she were in water, one movement flowing into the next with such intensity it made every man in the room believe she was dancing just for him. In a way, she was. She was a faery. The first I ever met. I watched her every move and after dinner I followed her. I followed her from the ballroom to an empty alcove. She knew I was coming and waited for me. When I found her I could not help myself. My lips were on hers before she could even say her name. I hardly remember what happened after that. All I know is that my night was full of magic. Everything was vague. And when I woke I in my room as if nothing had happened. Determined to find out if what had happened had been a dream I found where the gypsies were staying. She was there, about to perform for some of the city. When she saw me she took me to her tent and introduced herself. Lilith she told me her name was. She was like a demon."

River laughed bitterly.

"Beauty beyond human reach and rarity that made her so unattainable. Yet everyone knew she was dangerous. And she was. For the next month or so I met with Lilith almost everyday, falling into bed with her and falling for her magic. Jocelyn knew something was wrong. So did my family. But no one said anything. I was king now and my father was on the verge of death. Everyone assumed I was grieving. I was not. I was disloyal. The real world disappeared for too long and I got lost. Always stuck in this haze of Lilith. Over the weeks she learnt of my temper and selfishness. She saw the way I treated people, like they were beneath me, scum. She saw how impatient I was. She saw how I always needed to have my way. She saw my conceited nature. And she hated it. She saw how I treated Jocelyn, my wife, and wanted revenge. Not on Jocelyn. No. She wanted revenge on me. I was everything she hated and more. She saw how easily I hurt people and wanted me to pay. Wanted me to feel guilt. So, one night, after I had-"

River broke off, grimacing. I touched his arm gently and he took a breath.

"I had hurt Jocelyn. Hit her. I will never, never forgive myself for that. And I only did it because she had kissed me. Because she had touched my chest. She wanted a husband, someone to love, and someone to love her back. She wanted intimacy and children. I gave her nothing but fear and depression. Lilith decided tonight I was to get my punishment. I had spent the night with Lilith, under her magic spell, unaware and ignorant. After… well, Lilith left for an hour or so. Where, I do not know. And that made me nervous and angry. Like I said, I was impatient and aggressive. When she came back I shouted at her for leaving me. For not telling me where she went. For keeping me waiting. And that was when she changed me into this. She gave me magic and made me a faery. Well, not quite a faery, but not a human. That is why I was never really accepted into a court – I am half human.

Lilith told me I would spend eternity trying to find love. When my temper, impatient nature and selfishness had disappeared. When I was not so arrogant and conceited. She said I would not be rid of the curse until a woman fell in love with me. Me as who I am. A monster. She told me once that woman declared her love for me – as Jocelyn had done so many times when I took it for granted – I would learn to appreciate it. I would not disregard it. Then…" River paused. "Once I had done that, I would be free of my curse." River took a breath and all movement stopped. He got off the bed slowly and looked at me.

"You aren't any of those things anymore," I told him. "That's what Angus must've meant about your curse. You've already completed half of your curse."

"That is not what he meant," River said, turning his head away, not explaining. His voice was empty of any of the emotion I had just heard.

"But you aren't any of those things anymore."

"Yes. I am." He closed his eyes, and then opened them again. "I am still able to hurt people so freely just so I can use them. How many times have I done it to you?" I stood up next to him, but he took a step away. "It is late. You need rest. Tomorrow I will tell you what hospital your brother is being kept at. I will let you see him." Then River turned, and with a swooping sound was gone.

I stood by my bed, stunned. What had just happened? I found out my brother was possibly dying from an unknown virus. I'd almost had sex with River. He'd just told me why he was a monster. And I was going to see my brother tomorrow. That meant I got to see my parents. That was about when the anxiety hit. My breathing became short, and black spots appeared in front of my eyes. I gripped the bedpost for support while my vision cleared up. It was surprisingly dark outside. It frightened me. I stumbled to the curtains and drew them shut before staggering back to my bed and flopping on the covers. I crawled in and closed my eyes.

I couldn't see my family tomorrow. I just couldn't. I couldn't see them and know that they didn't recognise me. I couldn't do it.

I wasn't strong enough. I doubted I ever would be.


	16. Home

**15. Home**

River takes both of my hands in his, gently pulling me towards him. I am wearing my midnight blue gown and we are both in the ballroom. But River is River. Monster River. He is wearing my prince's clothing, but he is still my River.

"_You know what I have not said. What I cannot say," he says, looking at me urgently._

"_What are you talking about?" I ask, confused. _

"_What I want to say."_

"_Then say it," I say, suddenly irritated. _

"_I can not. You will get hurt."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_You know what I want to say, but cannot. Something that is so important. You listened to my story. You know why I cannot say it. But you know it is true. You understand."_

"_No. I don't. What are you talking about?"_

"_Something I so desperately try to hide. The reason why I am letting you see your brother. The reason why I am giving back your memories – your family's memories. Why I am letting you go home."_

"_Home?" The word sounds foreign. I am home. _

"_To your family."_

"_I… I don't have a family."_

"_Yes," River says, pulling me closer. "You do. I took you away from them, but I am giving them back. I am giving them back so you forget about me. So I do not have to tell you."_

"_Tell me what?" I shout. River looks hurt. _

"_You know. You do. You just do not believe that I could ever do such a thing."_

"_Do what?" I yell. River flinches again. He releases a hand and places it on my chest, just above my heart. I hear the melody on the piano begin and it calms me. _

"_This," River says, playing his fingers over my skin. _

"_I don't understand."_

"_You do," River answers. He leans in and gives me short kiss on the lips before pulling away. _

_He quickly traces a shape of a heart on my skin with his fingers, then, with a swooping sound, he disappears. _

When I woke up I was surprised. Surprised I had fallen asleep. Surprised I hadn't had nightmares. Surprised I was awake. I got up quickly, having a shower and getting dressed. I wasn't sure what time it was, except that the sun was out beyond my window. I almost ran from my room and down the corridor to the main hallway. I needed to find River. I needed to tell him that I couldn't do it. I couldn't see my brother. If he was– I stopped suddenly, choking on the word I hadn't even said aloud. If he was dying, it didn't matter. If didn't affect my life anymore. I wasn't part of his life, and he wasn't part of mine. I tried to convince myself of this, but it didn't work. I ended up holding the wall for support as I tried to breathe. I was shaking, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

Faster than I'd gotten to the hallway I was back in my room. I was scrambling through my things, my hands shaking, looking for the small vile. Once I'd found it I grabbed the small hand mirror I'd taken from the south wing. I opened the vile and tipped some of the white powder out, organising it into lines with an old bus ticket. I'd told River no more. But I needed it. Now, I needed it. Tipping my head over the mirror and reaching for the plastic tube of my broken pen, my reflection stared back at me. Then I saw my brother reflected. Sick. Dying. In the hospital, surrounded by the white oppressive walls. My mother weeping. My father shaking. Picking up the mirror I threw it at the wall. It smashed on impact, the pieces and powder raining to the ground.

Then, suddenly I remembered the dream I'd had last night. The memory was cloudy and strange at first, not really making any sense. As a defence mechanism for my messed up mind it turned all thoughts to the dream and soon the dream cleared. It still didn't make any sense. What did River want me to know, but couldn't tell me? What was he trying to say, while desperately wanting to hide? What did he think I believe he couldn't ever do? Why would it hurt me? What did I already know, but couldn't figure out?

Then it hit me. What River hadn't said to keep me safe? What I thought he would never do. Love. The thought hit me with such force my whole body rocked. I felt my knees give out, and I clutched the wall, putting my back against the cold marble and sliding down carefully. Did River really love me, or was this just my subconscious telling me that? I needed to find River. I stood slowly, my legs shaky, and resumed my search. All the way to River's room I rehearsed what I would say to him in my head.

I didn't want to see my brother. What happened to my brother didn't affect me. If I went to the hospital it would just complicate things.

I reached River's door and knocked softly, suddenly conscious of how I looked. Did River really love me? Could he? Was it possible? The door opened slowly, and as soon as I saw River's face I caved.

"Please let me see my brother. Please let me see Adam," I sobbed, tears flowing from my eyes. River's face softened and became a look of sadness. He moved forward and took me in his arms. He kissed my forehead once and then put my face into his neck, letting me cry, stroking my hair soothingly.

"Oh Giselle," he sighed. "Of course I was going to let you see your brother. I said that yesterday." I didn't answer, just cried while River soothed me. "Giselle, Giselle, it will be all right," he kept murmuring into my hair. I cried for a little longer, before pulling away from River. He looked at me and closed his eyes, taking a breath, as if he had something terrible to say.

"What is it?" I asked immediately.

"I am letting you go. You may go back to your family."

"What?" I asked, not sure of what I was hearing.

"Your brother is sick and you deserve to see him. I…" River stopped. He looked like he was having a hard time saying whatever he wanted to say. I was patient. "I will give your family and friends their memories back. You may go home." I wasn't sure what to say. Why now? Why so sudden? But there was one question that was burning a hole through my heart. _Was he doing this because he loved me?_ He wanted me to leave because of last night. The kiss. My dream was right. River loved me.

"The reason why I am letting you see your brother. The reason why I am giving back your memories – your family's memories. Why I am letting you go home."

But if he did love me, how was I supposed to go? If he loved me, how was I supposed to leave him here, alone, in this huge house with only my memory? And there was another question that made me feel sick to my stomach. _Did I love him back?_ Could _I _leave him? The decision was made quicker than I had time to ponder. Yes. I could leave him. I wanted a life and family. River didn't age or die. I did. I could never be with River and I wanted my family back.

"Why?" I heard myself ask. I may have known the reason, but I wanted River to say it to me.

"Because… your brother needs you. So does the rest of your family. Mix too. You need to go home."

"No," I said.

"What?" River looked stunned.

"You are letting me go because of last night. You're scared you really feel something for me. That's why you're letting me go, isn't it?"

"I…" River looked at me pleadingly. "My reasons do not matter. You get to go home. It is what you want. What you and your family need."

"What about you?"

"I will go on as always."

"You can't just say that!" I was angry.

River seemed surprised. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me the truth."

"Fey cannot lie," he stated simply.

"But you can skip around a question. Just tell me. Do you want me? Do you feel something – anything – for me?"

"I…" He looked as if he were trying to get words out, but couldn't.

I felt tears in my eyes. "Just once, River. Just once I'd like you to be straight with me. To tell me you want me. To tell me you love me. And to tell me I'm not crazy for wanting you bac–" My sentence was bitten off as River grabbed my neck and pulled my lips to his. With his other hand he lifted me up, taking me to his bed and laying me the wrong way over the unmade bed.

"Fine," he said, voice tense and irritated, "fine, you want to hear that a monster loves you, then fine. Now, you know. It does not change anything. I am still a sadistic monster."

"Stop being stupid," I rolled my eyes. I was furious for some reason. "You're not a sadis–" And again he cut me off with an incensed kiss, laying over me, his hands holding me. "You can't just kiss me every time you don't like something I'm saying." I was still frustrated

He didn't answer. He just kissed me again, one hand under my back, his body pressed down on mine, the other hand at the back of my neck in my hair. His kiss was hard, like he was angry.

I wasn't even surprised that I felt the same way.

When I woke up, I found that River had covered me with a blanket. I sat, using the sheet to wrap around me. The room was dark, even though I knew it was light outside. River had shut the curtain, leaving only a slit open, which let light fall over the floor in a wonky line. I saw River sitting against the far wall, his head in his hands, wearing only shorts, the light just missing him.

"River?" I asked.

He looked up at me, face haunted. "Giselle." His voice sounded like that of a man who'd committed a terrible crime; full of guilt. He stood, and I could see that his hands were shaking. "I… what have I done?" He was pleading. Honestly pleading. "What have I done to you?"

"River, relax. It's okay–"

"No!" he shouted. "It is not _okay_. You deserve so much more than me–"

"Oh, just shut up!" I shouted back.

River's jaw snapped shut. He was angry again. I stood up, holding the sheet around me and walking to where he was standing. He still looked haunted.

"You don't deserve anything. Neither do I. Because I don't believe in that shit. I believe, that this happened because we both wanted it. And that's all."

"You are so much more than you know," River said, putting a hand to my cheek, his anger slipping away. Maybe he was scared that something would happen again. I put my hands around his neck, the sheet falling away from me. River put his hands on my waist, his touch so cold I gasped. He began to move away, but I gripped him. He looked over my body, then to my eyes, holding my gaze. There was silence for a long time after that. Then, "Mix is waiting for you outside the gate."

"What?" I was startled by the mention of the name.

"They have their memories returned. You went on an exchange to France for the months you were here. Today was the day you came to the mansion for the first time with Mix."

"You…" I didn't know what to do. "You're getting rid of me." Tears stung at my eyes.

River wiped them away. "You have no future here. Only death. I do not get that luxury, and never will. Please. Do this. For me."

"How can I leave you?"

"I will survive on the comfort that you have lived. You have lived where I couldn't. Where many others couldn't. Just give me that."

It took me too long to answer. So I nodded. Then, I changed into my clothes.

"Your things have been returned."

"Thank you." My words were empty.

River nodded. Nothing else was said, even if the air was filled with it. It was hard to say anything else with those words filling everything around us. So, nothing else was said.

Then, I left.

As I walked down the long pathway, Mix's slightly chubby form became more recognisable. She wasn't quite as plump as she'd been before Johnny, but she was getting better. There was something in that. I struggled to find it. I reached the gate, walking through, Mix looking terrified.

"I can't believe you would do that to me," Mix said. "And on the second day you get back. You scared me half to death. It wasn't funny, Giselle." It sounded so strange to hear her say my name. It had only been River for so long. "And when your brother is so sick. Are you trying to kill your parents?"

"Can you take me to see him? Adam?" I asked.

"Of course." Mix seemed suddenly scared by my tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I just need to see him."

Over the next month, I saw Adam nearly every day. Mum and Dad were too preoccupied to ask me about my 'trip to France' which I was eternally grateful for. Adam got worse and better everyday. He had to have surgery and therapy, no one really knowing what was going on or why he was sick. He was always having tests and was often too sick to even speak a few words.

In a way, I almost felt as if I were still at River's. Everyone was still a zombie to me, saying no more than a few tense awkward words. And I felt as if I didn't know them anymore. At all. It was so hard to relate.

My mother prayed everyday. So did I. I figured someone out there owed me something. Why couldn't it be this? I deserved this. I deserved this more than anyone. Then I felt selfish. But surely. Surely I deserved some sort of repayment. Then I remembered what I'd said to River. I didn't deserve anything. Things just happened.

"You are thinner," my dad observed one day at the coffee shop across the road from the hospital. "Didn't they feed you over there?"

"I did heaps of walking, and we were always on the move. I often forgot to eat. Just lost a little weight."

My excuses were always lame. But I wasn't sure what else to do. It was either lying, or the truth. And the truth was so… ludicrous. I memorised a few stories I could retell about my 'France Exchange'. What my host family was like and the things I saw. What the people were like and how beautiful the night was. What snow was like when it first fell. Memories I never had. Memories I imagined.

I had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, but I didn't mind so much. It felt good to keep my mind busy.

I saw Tom a few times. He gave me strange looks. I wasn't sure what state his memory was in, so I mostly kept away from him.

Johnny, meant nothing to me. And I swore I'd never go near him again.

I still saw fey, and the fey world, but that didn't bother me so much anymore. I always had my necklace with the Celtic pendant so I felt reassured. I didn't mind belonging to River anymore. I kept to myself and ignored them. They didn't notice me. I didn't feel safe, and everyday I saw new and frightening things, but I knew I would be okay.

I guess you could say my life was almost improving. Even if Adam was still sick.

It didn't change anything though. I still wanted River.

Adam had been getting better for a week or so, and I'd been spending heaps of time with him. He was the one person I was grateful for. For remembering me. He often didn't speak, but one day had been different.

"What happened, Giselle?" He sounded strained, like he was in pain.

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Something happened. You've changed. You worry me."

"You should be worrying about yourself," I smiled.

"Why? Everyone else is doing that for me. I'm the only one who seems to have seen you. And you're sick Giselle. I'm scared for you. Mix knows. I asked her about it. There's something wrong. Did something happen in France?"

I tried to swallow, suddenly finding it hard. I shook my head. "Nothing happened it France." It wasn't a lie.

"Giselle?" Adam paused. His eyes dropped. Then opened again. "You didn't go to France. I remember. Something… something else happened. I just… I don't remember." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall.

I shook my head. "Stop. I don't…" Adam looked at me. "No. I didn't go to France on exchange. You're right."

"Then why do I remember that? I don't understand. It's like all of these bizarre memories conflict."

"I can't explain. It's complicated."

"Why does everyone think you went to France?"

"I told you, it's complicated. Just… just leave it alone."

He heard my tone. "Fine. But when you get better, I will find out. You're my sister. And I need you. You need it."

Then, I was crying. Adam held my head to his chest. "I love you," he said to me.

"Me too. I love you. You'll always be here. I need you." The words were risky.

I was walking home from school a month or so later, ready to go to the hospital. I usually found a different route to get home. A route that didn't go past the mansion. But today I just wanted to get home. It was windy and cold, and I felt tired.

But the instant I passed the house, there was a whisper in the wind. And I froze, gritting my teeth. The wind whispered again, and I couldn't ignore it.

_He's dying, _it spoke softly. _He's dying._

"What are you talking about?" I shouted at the air. "He can't die."

_Time has changed him. It is not health that is killing him. _

"I don't understand," I said desperately.

_You said so yourself. Perfectly healthy, dying inside. He's dying. _

"Dying," I echoed. And now I felt it. Panic.

And it wasn't Adam that was going to die, like Angus had said. It was River. All along. I'd just missed it.

I ran to the house, using the same tree to get over the wall, not caring who saw. I tried the front doors, unable to get in. I fell to my knees, tears falling onto my school uniform.

"Please," I whispered to the day. "Just let me in. Please."

Nothing.

"Onyx. Orion." I turned to the dragons. They didn't move. "Please," I begged. Still, they didn't move. But I heard two stone-on-stone voices whisper in sync, "For our master's Giselle."

And the door swung open. I didn't care what magic had controlled it, except that magic had. I dashed to River's room, hardly stopping at his door. Without knocking I threw the door open. River was lying in bed, blankets up to his neck. He was shaking with cold even though he was sweating. I ran to the bedside, kneeling, watching his bottomless blue eyes.

"River. River. It is me. Giselle."

"I know it is you. I could never forget you."

"What happened?"

"I feel cold."

"Yes, you have a fever." I put the back of my hand to his forehead. River reached out to hold it.

He smiled a delirious smile. "You are more than you could know. So beautiful. Painfully so. You could kill with your beauty, Giselle Belle."

"You can't die, River. You can't. I need you. Please. You can't die." I crawled into bed, under the covers, gripping River's hot body. He'd always been ice to me, now he felt like he was on fire. It scared me. I was terrified.

"I am cold."

"No," I shook my head. "You feel hot."

"I am dying."

"No. No. I will fix this. Just tell me how to fix it."

"I cannot. I do not want to. No." His eyes were unfocused and fluttery.

Then I remembered something. Tears fell from me.

Lilith told me I would spend eternity trying to find love. When my temper, impatient nature and selfishness had disappeared. When I was not so arrogant and conceited. She said I would not be rid of the curse until a woman fell in love with me. Me as who I am. A monster. She told me once that woman declared her love for me – as Jocelyn had done so many times when I took it for granted – I would learn to appreciate it. I would not disregard it. Then…" River had paused. "Once I had done that, I would be free of my curse."

"I lo-"

"Do not say it," River whispered softly, putting a finger to my lips.

"Why not?" I asked, tears staining my cheeks.

"Because I can not kill you. I just can not," River told me. I heard the sobs in my chest as River tried to sooth me.

"That doesn't make any sense," I almost shouted.

"I have to kill you to cure the curse. That's what Angus meant. He meant that you had… fallen for me. And now all I had to do was kill you. Then I would be free. I had fulfilled my half of the bargain. Killing you was the second half. Then I would be free. That is what he meant."

"That doesn't make any sense," I almost shouted again. River grimaced and I sighed. "If she wanted you to learn not be selfish, why make you do such a selfish act to save yourself? Wouldn't she make you do something selfless? You've waited. You don't have a temper any more. You aren't conceited. What more does she want?"

"Revenge," River whispered. "And she knows I can not live without you. She knows I would not kill you. So now, you must live without me instead."

"I don't want to," I murmured. "I want you."

"I am sorry, my love," River whispered, closing his eyes slowly.

"I love you," I said without hesitation. River seemed to take this in for a moment, eyes still closed. Then, his body stiffened against me. His eyes flickered open in an instant. I almost fell back. His eyes were no longer cold and empty. They were human. They were the eyes of my prince.

"Why did you do that?" River hissed.

There was no swooping sound or smoke. In fact, there was nothing to show the arrival of the faery, except that she was there. And she was all that River had described. And she was all I'd dreamt. Porcelain skin and golden hair. She was wearing a dress of red spider silk, which was long and flowing. It seemed to float in the air around her; like she was in water.

"River," Lilith said in a voice like mercury, "you managed to find the girl you've been looking for. I'm sure you remember our agreement." The mocking and cool smugness in her voice made me angry.

"I will not do it," River said, his strength returning. He sat and I fell out of the bed as I saw the colour returning to River's skin. Colour that I'd never seen before. The calluses and rough skin disappeared. The cat's teeth became human, his tongue a normal pink. The scaled ridges smoothed out into normal eyebrows and the veins became unnoticeable. His skin became the dark russet colour of my prince. He became everything I'd dreamt of and more. He was beautiful. He was perfect.

River got up and walked to me, standing in a protective stance in front of me.

"I will not hurt her," he growled.

"No?" Lilith questioned, her eyebrows raised in scepticism. From behind her back she withdraw one of my silver daggers. "A dagger labelled for each love. For each love you killed."

"I will not kill Giselle. I would rather destroy myself."

"Is that so?" Lilith began moving forward, dagger in hand. River's stance tensed. Lilith held the dagger by the blade, holding the hilt to River. "It isn't even the slightest bit tempting?"

"Not at all," River said without fault or hesitation.

"You wouldn't even do it for your Queen?"

"You may be the Queen of the Natsu Court, but you are not my Queen. You never will be." Lilith was the Queen of the Natsu Court. That certainly explained things. Angus, her death faery and the reason as to why he was sent. How much power she had, and why River still had to serve, even is he wasn't part of the court.

"Hmm," Lilith muttered. She dropped the dagger. It fell, struck the floor, but bounced, lying flat. "I've always thought humans were strange. Your commitment is… endearing. Or foolish. Although, I can see the beauty in this one." Lilith moved away. "Now, it's your choice. As you can see, your curse has been removed, but you're too old to survive without my magic. So. You either kill her. Or you die. It's my final offer."

Again, no hesitation. "I die."

Lilith smiled. "Goodbye, Giselle Belle."

The whole room was suddenly caught up in a windstorm. I was thrown around as the wind tried to take me. I felt hands on me. River's hands. They guided me to the bed, where I lay still, safe from the fury.

Then, the wind stopped and there was nothing there. Nothing to suggest anything had even happened.

My brain went into a daze as soon as I realised what I had done. He was gone. I lay in his bed, clutching at the quilting and sheets. It still smelt like him. My body froze up at the thought of losing that memory. Of losing all the memories. I pulled my knees into my chest, holding myself together, gripping at what was now left of me.

When I made it home – after spending way too much time in the mansion – I couldn't get away fast enough. As much as I wanted to keep those memories, I knew they would tear me apart. They made me feel as if my whole body would crack and break like the fragile human I was. When I got to my room, silently so as not to wake anyone, I fell into my bed darkness engulfing me. But I couldn't sleep. Dreaming scared me. Even if it were of my prince, it would be nightmare to me now. A memory of what had destroyed me so consistently and thoroughly. I was Giselle, the ballerina, once more. My love taken by another woman.

I had tried to save his life, but my life was already over. I was nothing more than a ghost. A faint memory. Now, I had to pick up the pieces.


	17. Normality

**16. Normality**

Days moved faster than I thought they would. In short spurts, as if I had missed a whole week here or there. My family were worried about me. I often woke, screaming into my pillow, drenched in a cold sweat. I hardly ever saw anyone besides Mix. And even her I saw scarcely. But how was I supposed to concentrate on real life when I had seen so much more.

The first day of school almost killed me. I kept to myself, tyring to deal with everything. All the people and talking and gossip. I hadn't realised until now, but high school was so trivial. There was so much out there that no one knew about. A whole new world. A real world. A magic world. It sounded strange whenever I spoke. Like the words or the voice didn't belong to me. I was going to have to work on that; I was getting weird looks whenever I opened my mouth. Or maybe the looks were simply because I was opening my mouth – it didn't happen often.

I tried. I honestly did. But it wasn't working out for me. It was during chemistry, sitting next to Mix, that everything began to pile on top of me. It was all too much. How was I supposed to think about electron configuration and ionic bonding, when River was the only thing I saw? I didn't notice the tears, until I heard one hit my notebook. That was when I realised I couldn't see anything. Everything was swimming in tears. Hazy. Like the paintings that lined the walls of River's mansion. The painting of me, in the midnight blue gown, staring at the cross. I had become Giselle. I was nothing more than a shell. An empty void. There was nothing left.

It took months. Months for both Adam and I to get better. Adam, was so weak and sick for so long he hardly looked like himself. But he was getting better. When I'd first returned, I noticed how little I was worried about Adam. I was, of course, but I didn't think he'd die. Angus said someone would die. And that was River. So, I figured by that logic, Adam would live.

Also, I had blocked out any real feeling and emotion for so long, it took a while for me to watch my family and begin to feel. I had… improved, but I wasn't well. Mum and Dad were mostly too worried about Adam to send me off to counselling, which I was entirely grateful for. I couldn't exactly talk about what had happened to me anyway.

I honestly began to wonder if it was real. Everything was normal again. It was as if a few months had disappeared from my life, but that was it. Those memories of France that I'd created almost seemed real now. Perhaps I had just gone to France. I mean, I knew I'd taken drugs. Perhaps… everything, was just drugs and depression. Maybe nothing was real at all. I didn't know anymore. I didn't even care anymore.

Mix and I walked into my room one day after school, dumping our bags on the floor. Mum was at the hospital and Dad was still at work. I'd invited her to study with me. I doubted how much we'd actually study.

She moved to the radio and flicked it on, slumping into my beanbag and grabbing a magazine from the floor. I was about to fall onto my bed when something stopped me.

A tiny figurine. A faery. With auburn coloured hair and a midnight blue ball gown. Sitting on my pillow. And this time she wasn't happy. She was hunched over her knees, hugging them into her chest, crying softly. Her hair fell about her face and her eyes were sunken in, face gaunt, eerily beautiful. There was a small envelope.

"Mix," I said carefully.

"Yeah?" she asked, flipping through the magazine, not quite reading it, but almost.

"Is that real?" I asked softly, pointing to the figurine.

Mix looked up and threw he glance towards my pillow. She stood, a frown on her face. "Yeah." She shrugged. "Why?"

"Well, my sense of reality and psychosis is fairly mixed up. I just needed to check."

"What is it?" Mix asked.

"It's me." I picked it up, ensuring it was real, and handed it to her.

"How did it get there?"

"I have no idea." I picked up the envelope.

"It's beautiful. So real," Mix said, staring at the figure. "She – you – look so sad. It's awful." Mix put the figure down, as if she couldn't bear to look at it. Her face looked at me, as if she saw a resemblance that hurt her, then looked at the floor.

I opened the envelope; mildly scared that this was trick the Queen was playing. Inside, there was a small note.

It read: I made her as you wished. Unhappy. Is it a true representation now? Did it change anything?

"What does it say?" Mix asked. I passed her the note. "I don't understand. 'Did it change anything?' What does that mean?"

It changed what he thought of me. That's what it changed.

"Giselle, what is this?"

I grabbed the note and the figurine off Mix, and threw them at the wall. The figurine didn't smash; it just fell to the carpet. Mix looked startled. "It's nothing," I told her. "Someone playing a joke."

"It wasn't very funny," Mix said, sinking into the beanbag again.

Yes. That's what it had to be. The Queen. Or Angus. Playing a joke. Messing with me. That's all. It was written like River, but that was impossible. It couldn't happen. He was dead.

That night, I had more nightmares. That had stopped being so frequent and scary, but now they were back in full force. It was mostly images of River and Lilith and Angus. I saw the ballroom and my prince and Jocelyn. The cross was there, as well as the paintings, figurines and daggers. Mostly, it was just memories. When I woke up I felt cold; the pendant at my neck burning me. My body was shaking and my head pounded. I felt like being sick, but didn't want to get up. I didn't go back to sleep until the sun came up.

I'd still been seeing faeries, because I still had the Sight. I guess that was how I knew what happened actually happened. Unless I was crazy and imagining things. I just kept to myself and ignored them. If I pretended I couldn't see them they didn't know any difference. And that worked for me. Most of the time.

It was a couple of weeks later, when again, I'd invited Mix to my house – no one else was home. Except this time it was in the kitchen. Mix had sat up at one of the stools by the bench and I was raiding the fridge. Mix was the first one to see it.

"You want Coke or Pepsi? We also have apple juice," I called from the fridge.

"Pepsi. What's that?"

I leant back from, looking past the door of the fridge. "What?"

"This gold box."

And I saw it.

My golden-opal box. I walked to it, taking it gently from Mix's hands. The last time I'd seen those daggers they'd been imbedded in Angus's fur. Slowly, I opened the box. And there they were. The two beautiful silver-opal daggers. I assumed they'd been washed, because they looked as beautiful as they had when I'd first seen them. I picked each one up, finding the engravings. Underneath the daggers were the leather sheaths.

I spun the blades in my hands, almost tempted to throw it as something, just to see if I was still good.

"What are they? And why are you… how come you can use them?"

"They're daggers. And I learnt how to use them."

"When?" Mix seemed incredulous.

"Um… in France." The figurine was on my bedside table. I'd burnt the note. But I just couldn't throw away the figurine. It was River's artwork. And I just couldn't.

"Well, that's just weird. But who keeps sending you this stuff. Maybe you should tell your mum."

"No," I answered, surprised by how calm I was. "I know who's sending it. It's okay. It's a joke. It's from a… friend." Well, I wouldn't call Lilith or Angus a friend, but whatever.

"There's a note," Mix said, putting her hand in the bottom of the gold box, and pulling out another envelope. She handed it to me and I opened it, ripping the paper slightly.

It read: I retrieved them for you. A memento. Do they scare you?

And I was relieved. Because River couldn't have retrieved them. Not unless Angus had let him. Angus had River's full name, and power over him. I'd been right. It was the Queen or Angus. They wanted me to hurt. To remember.

"What does this one say?" Mix asked. I handed her the note. She shrugged. "You have some weird friends."

No, I wasn't scared. Not at all. I understood the daggers. That's all I needed.

The third time, again Mix was with me. I was beginning to wonder if someone wanted Mix to know something. It was a couple of weeks later and Mix was staying at my house for the night. My parents were out – again. We were just going to watch movies and talk. We were in the lounge, where the TV was, when Mix, and I, both noticed something new. A painting. Above the TV. Where we'd never had any art hanging there before.

"That's beautiful," Mix breathed.

"It's me," I told her. Me. Painted through my window. In the dress.

"The same French friends?" Mix asked.

"Something like that."

"There's another note stuck underneath the frame," she pointed. I walked to the painting, plucked away the envelope and ripped it open.

It read: I watched you that night. Memorised you. Beauty in the purest form. Do you feel beautiful?

I passed the note to Mix before she asked. I wondered why they were doing this. I didn't even mind so much. I was getting things I thought I'd lost. Or never had.

And even though I was sure this wasn't from River, he'd painted this, and made the daggers, and sculpted the figurine. So while the notes meant little, the other things did. So, yes, what he thought of me changed, but I think that was okay.

And yes, in the painting, I did feel beautiful.

The fourth, and I thought, final time, it was in my room. Mix was over again. My parents downstairs. We were getting ready to go out to a restaurant with Adam. I wasn't sure what to wear, and Mix and I were raiding my closet. It was Mix who found it.

"Oh. My. God," she breathed. "This is amazing."

The midnight blue silk of the dress floated over her hands.

"Yeah, I know."

"Where did this come from?"

"France." I almost smiled. It _was_ sort of a joke. Mix passed me the note that was pinned to the corset.

It read: It's yours. Perfect. As only you could be. Does it hurt you?

Yes, it hurt, but I guess I didn't really mind. It was meant to hurt.

That was the last of the gifts. Well, I suppose, not really. But the next part happened a few days later.

It was at school. There was a new guy.

The news of the new guy in town was all over the school. Of course it was. When a new kid came to a town as small as mine it was practically Christmas. Especially for the girls – who were always on the look out for fresh meat. I wasn't interested. I was happy keeping to the little hole I had dug for myself. The thought of school made me feel sick. All the people. All the flirting and testosterone. How was I supposed to deal with that? I had seen so much more and now I was supposed to live a normal human life again. Sure thing. As if. I may have loved River, but somehow I hated him more everyday.

The whispers of the new guy didn't intrigue me, as they would have a year ago. Even Mix talking animatedly to me, didn't really do anything to stir any sort of emotion.

"He's in my history class. And he's so cute. I think he's Middle Eastern. Well, his heritage must be. He has that really nice dark skin. But anyway, we were in history, and he is _so_ smart. He knew, like, all the answers to the questions Miss Rewal gave us. And he's really polite, you know. And even though he is, like, really hot, he's not an arrogant jock or anything. He's actually really nice. He talked to me. _Me. _Fat, unpopular me. So he must be nice."

"You're not fat," I answered, not really taking in anything Mix had said. I'd been like that since River had died. Mix looked at me with that look I often got. That, you-are-scaring-me-with-your-corpse-like-state-I-think-you-need-to-see-someone-you-are-crazy look. The pursed lips, slight frown and worried face. And the you-going-to-crack-at-any-time face. I got those looks too often.

"This is us," Mix said as we reached our English class. We walked in and found seats near the back. I think this may have been Mix's way of protecting me from teachers, students and jerk-offs. Since when had I needed protection? I was always the charismatic pretty one. The one with charm and wit. People liked me. I had never needed any sort of protection. I was the one who protected and stood up for Mix when the jerk-offs were being… well, jerk-offs. I was always calm and measured. That was when I realised I was still calm and measured. Except this time, I devoid of anything. I was useless.

"Now everyone, I would like to introduce our new student we are all thrilled to have," our teacher began.

"Oh," Mix said excitedly. I didn't even look up. "He's in our class."

"Great," I said, my voice monotone. Mix gave me another you-going-to-snap looks.

"Everyone, this is River Carter," the teacher said. My head snapped up at the name – a knee jerk reaction. I think somewhere in the back of my head I would have know that this couldn't be my River. He was gone. But when I did look up, I think my heart stopped.

He was right there. My River. But he was different. So different. Different to the hideous monster I had grown to love. Different to the gorgeous price I had grown to fear. He was younger than both. Now that I looked at him, my dreams had been very far from the truth. He would only be seventeen or eighteen. Certainly no older. Yet he did have a man's face – square chin, long face, prominent cheekbones – and tall, square body. But he wasn't as perfect as my dream had made him. Sure enough he still had the gorgeous russet skin and bright blue eyes to match the thick black hair. But he wasn't as perfect as my prince was. I liked that. He was more… normal. No, not normal. More human.

I hadn't even realised I was standing until I head Mix hissing, "Giselle! Giselle! What are you doing?"

I moved forward without hesitation.

When River's eye caught mine, he looked at me strangely, cocking his head to the side and studying me with his eyes. "Giselle?" he whispered in his alluring, deep, honey voice. But it wasn't in recognition. It was as if he knew who I was, but couldn't remember where we had met. I froze on the spot. Could he really not remember? Could he really be… human?

"Giselle?" came the teacher's voice. I didn't answer. I was still staring at River. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes," I managed to choke out. "Wait…" I reconsidered. "No. I'm not feeling that well. Do you mind if I go to the sick bay?"

"Um…" I got another one of those don't-snap-on-me looks. "Yes, go ahead." If it had been anyone else, she would've said no.

I got out of the room as quickly as I could. I didn't know where I was going, except away. When I finally stopped, I realised I was having a hard time breathing. Seeing too. Blood was pounding in my ears and my breaths were coming out in gasps. My hands were shaking and my knees collapsed beneath me. I fell onto grass of the school oval, and let the tears run from my eyes. I was still sobbing my heart out when I heard my name. I guess I had missed the footsteps.

"Giselle?" the voice questioned. Immediately I shuddered. This was wrong. River was gone. He shouldn't be here. "Are you all right? Would you like some help?" Before I could answer I was being lifted onto my feet, and into the chest of the human River. He still smelt the same; I inhaled deeply. "We know each other," he said, voice coming from just above my head. It wasn't a question. I nodded anyway. River had his wide arms around me, head rested on mine. But in that moment he pulled me away from him, so I was still encircled in one arm, but the other hand held my face up to his. He looked at me intently, chewing his lip in concentration, just like he had so many times in the library of his mansion, when trying to work out some impossible equation or theory. "Would it be insane if I was to say I had… dreamt of you?" He looked embarrassed.

"No, that would be one of the more sane things I've heard you say," I told him, humour not really working in this instance.

"I feel like I've spent a lot of time with you. I know you well." River's brow creased. "You have a family. Mother, father and older brother. Your best friend is Mix. I think that was why I was attracted to her in history. I knew her somehow. And I keep seeing… well… I keep seeing you in a midnight blue dress in a ballroom. A… rose, above your head. But you are a little blurred. I just don't understand…" River trailed off in frustration. "And… I keep seeing images of… daggers?" River seemed to be talking more to himself than me. "And there was a song. Played on the piano."

"I spent months with you," I told him. "I know that… in the past, you were impatient, bad tempered, quick to judge and very vain. You were rich. Set to inherit…a kingdom. But… something went wrong. I'm a little sketchy on the details but I think you were – for want of a better word – cursed." River looked at me blankly. I noticed we were still embraced. As if we had know each other for a long time.

"I grew up in a town just south of this one with my mother," River said softly.

"You remember nothing? The mansion? The piano? The dinners?" I asked desperately. Maybe I had truly gone insane. Maybe none of this ever happened. No, my family had thought I was in France for months on exchange. It had definitely happened. So how come this River, the one who chewed his lip when he was thinking, and held me like he loved me, was so human. So young. So normal.

"I remember some," River said, still thinking. "I've had these dreams since I was a child. Dreams of you, of a mansion, of a cross and huge garden. Of a dress and piano with a rose. But mostly, the dreams were dancing with you. But these dreams, they were always… hazy. As if I were looking through water… or an opaque piece of glass."

"Like a painting?" I asked. At that River's eyes focused on me.

"Yes. Very much like a painting. In fact… I have painted these things. Often. I would wake and paint. Seeing you."

"Something happened," I said, trying to piece it together somehow. Had I just gone crazy? I didn't understand.

"You're beautiful," River said, touching my face.

"We need to see the Queen."

Jasper Park was all I knew of the Natsu Court, so that's where River – human River – and I ended up. Enda, the tiny bat-like sprite, met us at the edge of the park.

"Queen Lilith is waiting," she said in my ear, flittering to my shoulder.

"I figured," I muttered.

"I will take you," Enda said. She eyed River, and his hand on my waist. "I'm Enda," she told him.

"River," he told the little faery.

"Yes," she nodded.

Enda didn't have to take us far. The Queen – in all her wicked lovely beauty – was sitting in the crook of a tree. Kial, the faery that had injected me with the Sight, was standing beside her on her left. Angus, was on her right, in faery form, his hound features all too scary. The Queens porcelain skin danced and her braids seemed to float. She was wearing a black spider silk dress that made her look so startling ashen I could have sworn her glow was pulsating.

"You found him, Giselle," she said, voice bittersweet.

"This wasn't ever about me. It was about him."

"Until it became about _you_." She looked me up and down. "It became about you when he fell in love with you."

"So what now?" I asked. "Why did you send me those things? Why did you send him back?"

"Because I'm not as sadistic as you think I am. He's served me for too many years. I get tired. And he deserves something. He's learnt his lesson. So I've given him back to you."

"He isn't how I remember him."

"He's how _I_ remember him."

"And my memories?" River asked. His hand was still on the small of my back. I felt like he was trying to protect me.

"You can have them back. If you want them."

River looked at me. "Do I want them back?"

"You were so full of guilt, though. I'm not sure."

"But it was the previous me you fell for. Right?"

"I suppose…"

River put his other hand on my waist and pulled me close. "Then I want my memories back. My real memories."

"You don't even know me," I said, looking away.

"But I know that I love you. That's all I need to know."

"That's stupid."

Then River kissed me. He held me gently and kissed me chastely. "I've done enough _to_ you. I want to do something _for_ you."

"Then it's settled," the Queen said, smiling. "You get your memories back."

It seemed as if nothing happened. Then River gripped me. River held me so tightly I could hardly breath. He put his face into the crook of my neck, breathing deeply.

"Will you ever forgive me? For everything I've done to you?"

"Of course," I answered automatically.

"You don't even know what you are forgiving, do you?" River asked, looking at me.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. Everything I put you through. Everything I put all those girls through. It was evil and vindictive."

"You never hurt me," I reasoned. "You were good to me."

"Physically, yeah. But mentally, I knew what I was doing was wrong. It just… when I was cursed… I lost so much humanity. I forgot love and life. I forgot most human emotion. I was a monster. It was only you – so vibrant, confident and beautiful – that made me feel things again."

"River," I whispered. "No more."

"I've given enough," Queen Lilith said. "Angus and Kial returned your things, Giselle, and I've given you River. I think you can leave. I'm tired."

It was River who steered me away from the court as fast as he could.

When we got home together, Mix was waiting at my doorstep.

"Are you okay?" She started talking fast. "You left, and you were crazy, and River followed you. God, I was so freaked. I didn't know where to go, and then-"

"Mix. Relax. I'm fine. We're both fine." I unlocked the door and let the three of us in.

Mix eyed how River was touching me and asked, "What the hell happened?"

"A few things," I shrugged.

"Giselle?" she questioned.

"You know the Queen wants her to know, right?" River told me.

"I guessed," I said. We walked into the kitchen.

"I'll be waiting for you in your room," he said to me. "Tell her." Then River kissed me once softly, and left the room, touching my hand. I turned back to Mix.

"What is going on?" she asked, sounding annoyed. "You're depressed one day, then you meet River and you're fine. Now you're talking about magic and whatever. What the hell is going on?"

"Well, you remember that time when I went into the mansion?"

"Yeah, it was just after you went to France."

"Well… not quite."

"What do you mean?"

"It happened quite a few months earlier."

"How?"

"Remember when you told me about that faery in the mansion that took young girls as slaves and destroyed memories of their family and friends?"

"Yeah…" Mix looked hesitant.

"Well… that isn't so far from the truth. You, see, Mix, you know the old fey myths?"

"Yeah…" Now she looked scared.

"They aren't so mythical…"

And my story began. Again.


End file.
